Born Brave
by Arianna18
Summary: Iolaus befriends a child who has unusual challenges and uncommon valor.


**BORN BRAVE**

_by Arianna_

_Story Consultant: Llyra_

_Note: This story is dedicated to Llyra, who developed a comprehensive story outline and asked me to fill it in. The story is based upon the film, Simon Burch, and is in response to the challenge September, 03, to write a story based on a character impacted upon or influenced by our heroes…however, it's not entirely clear who influenced whom more in the story which follows!_

_I am grateful to Llyra for trusting me with this story, and only hope that I have written a tale worthy of the outline she gave me and the movie that inspired both of us…_

_I remember the first time I met Silas, oh, years ago now – such a tiny mite of a child, and so very scruffy – I wondered what was wrong with his mother, to allow him to wander about on his own and to take such poor care of him. However, I soon learned that Silas knew well how to care for himself and the last thing he considered himself to be was a 'tiny mite of a child'…but I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me tell you his story as it unfolded, from the first time that my son, Hercules, and his best friend, Iolaus, encountered Silas. It was the year that Iolaus had returned to us from the East, two years after his son, Telaus, had died, following his gentle sweet mother and newborn brother to the Other Side…_

"Hey, Herc!" Iolaus called out, grinning broadly at the welcome relief of catching sight of his best friend in the market square.

Iolaus had come into town for the weekly market-day very early that morning to sell ploughshares, rakes, axes and knives that he'd crafted in the forge behind his small cottage. Smithing was hard, hot work, but not so hard and hot as farming – and smithing paid a whole lot better for the sweat and toil invested in it, at least so far as Iolaus was concerned. And, unlike farming, if he worked hard, he had a product to show for his labour – there was no need to worry about the vagaries of the weather or some weevil that could ruin a harvest, destroying months of effort and hope, leaving a man empty-handed and discouraged. Best of all, creating useful, sometimes even beautiful, things gave him a sense of accomplishment.

But 'selling' what he crafted was a whole other thing, and the man who was born to be a warrior found standing in a narrow stall under the hot sun, hawking his wares, to be torture indeed. The only good things about market days were the chance to catch up with friends and maybe, if his goods sold, he could afford an ale and a good meal in the tavern.

"Iolaus," Hercules smiled warmly as he pushed through the busy crowd to his friend's small booth in the back corner of the market, taking care to ensure that his sons, Clonus and Aeson, stayed close. "I hoped we'd find you here today. Mother told me to tell you that it's been too long since you've come for supper – and she's hoping you'll head there tonight. D and I, and the kids, are going to be there. So – will you come?"

The blond blacksmith made a show of thinking about it as he looked away and muttered, "Well, let's see, what do I have on my calendar for tonight? Hmm…" Lifting his laughing eyes to the demigod, he grinned cheerfully as he replied, "Guess what? I've the evening completely free!"

Laughing, Hercules shook his head. He'd never known Iolaus to turn down a chance at his mother's cooking. "Great," he chuckled as he looked over the well-crafted implements on the wooden table between him and his friend, and noted that much of what Iolaus had likely brought must already have been sold. "Looks like business has been brisk today…"

"Uh huh," Iolaus agreed happily. "Well, it's spring and so everyone is ensuring they've got the tools they need to work the earth. I've got something special, though, that I've been saving for the 'right' customer – a good blade, larger than most," he continued, his tone teasing. "I thought you might want it to till your fields…" he offered, pulling out an unusually large and heavy ploughshare from under the table. This one hadn't been for sale – he'd made it especially for Hercules.

Taking the finely-crafted iron blade, feeling its heft and appreciating the size and angle of the sharp blade, the demigod whistled appreciatively. It would cut deep and be equal to his strength. Reaching for the pouch at his belt, he paused as he looked up into the clear blue eyes that narrowed at his attempt to pay. "It's worth the price of the materials and labour you put into it, Iolaus," he argued softly, in response to the nonverbal message of refusal from his friend.

"You know better than that," Iolaus demurred, shaking his head. "It's little enough for all the meals I've enjoyed at your place. This is just my way of ensuring the crops keep coming – so I get to enjoy the bread made from them!"

"All right, thanks," the demigod replied, his expression and tone grateful, as he gave the ploughshare another approving glance. Iolaus did fine work, whether he was forging swords or ploughshares, and this tool was a masterpiece of strength and balance.

Just then, they heard the sound of scuffling and an, "Oomph" of suppressed pain from the nearby alley. Startled, Iolaus moved out from behind his booth. They could also hear shouts and jeers, the voices high-pitched, so it was probably just kids fooling around, but it wouldn't hurt to investigate. Sometimes, children played too rough, and both men knew the young could be cruel in tormenting any who were either different or not part of their inner circle of friends.

"Stay here," the demigod ordered his sons, "and watch Iolaus' goods." Then both men loped to the mouth of the narrow, dark lane to investigate the trouble.

Three bigger boys, of perhaps eight or nine years, were shoving a fourth, tiny child between them, laughing as they tripped him up. He half-staggered, half-ran between them to regain possession of sack almost as big as he was, that the others were tossing from one to another to torment him.

"What's going on here?" Iolaus called out sharply as the two men strode swiftly into the alley.

At the thunderous expressions on their faces, the bigger kids quailed a bit, but one whined, "Ah, we were just having a little fun with the freak…"

"Who are you calling a 'freak'," Hercules demanded angrily, as he grabbed the cloth sack from one of the young bullies, while Iolaus knelt to help the smaller child to his feet.

"Him – Silas the Shrimp," another taunted, but then flinched away when the demigod grabbed his shoulder and gave him a little shake.

"I'm ashamed of you," Hercules growled. "Those with size and strength have a responsibility to protect those who are younger and smaller…"

"I'm the same age as they are!" Silas called out, insulted, pushing Iolaus away. "You don't have to feel sorry for me!" he added defensively, his unusually high voice squeaking a bit with indignation and the frustration of having been tormented – not to mention the humiliation of having to have grownups 'rescue' him.

If he'd had a body to match his spirit, the child would be large indeed. From the look of confident independence shining from his wide brown eyes, strikingly beautiful in his blunt, ugly face, it seemed that his heart and courage were clearly more than a match for the other kids who loomed over him. But he was a very tiny, odd-looking child, not quite two feet tall, with an oversized head and crooked, short limbs. His body was bent, too, as if his spine hadn't known it was supposed to grow straight. His short, black hair stuck out in unruly spikes, and he looked in need of a good washing, what with the dirt smudged on his angular face, ground into his small hands and bare feet, and dusty, ragged clothing.

"We don't feel sorry for you," the blond hastened to inform him. "But three against one just isn't fair."

Unconvinced, believing they pitied him, for it seemed most folks did while the rest thought him either contemptible or cursed by the gods or just plain invisible, Silas squinted up at Iolaus, looking from him to Hercules and back again, while the other boys took the opportunity of the distraction he'd offered to scamper down the alley and out the far end. "So, just 'cause _he's _bigger'n you are, you don't expect him to protect you?"

Disconcerted, Iolaus blinked and looked at Hercules, who snorted and then burst out laughing at the very idea of Iolaus expecting to be protected by anyone. "Trust me, lad, Iolaus can take very good care of himself," he sniggered. "You're absolutely right, it's not about size – it's about skill and courage."

Sniffing self-righteously, happy to have that fact confirmed, Silas held out his small hands for his sack. "Could I have my nets back?"

"Nets?" Iolaus echoed curiously as Hercules handed the bag to the child, who made a show of slinging it over his shoulder – and almost fell over backwards from the weight of it.

Both men were very careful not to laugh.

"Yeah, I make them to sell at the market," the child explained. "They're perfect for fishing…"

"Really?" Iolaus challenged, now honestly intrigued. He'd never fished with a net. "I might be interested…"

Sensing a potential sale in the offing, Silas was suddenly all business. He set the sack down and reached inside, pulling out a finely woven net that could be flung out loosely, then pulled together with a sturdy string that looped around the edges. "You just have to drop this into a stream full of fish," he explained, "and then pull it tight and – presto – you have your dinner! It's as fast and simple as that."

Chewing on his lip, Iolaus looked uncertain as he muttered, "Doesn't seem very sporting…"

"Depends on how hungry you are," the kid replied matter-of-factly. "Fishing for food isn't the same as fishing for the fun of it."

"He's got you there, Iolaus," Hercules observed as he looked toward the end of the alley and spotted his two boys watching them curiously as they kept one eye on Iolaus' wares.

"Yeah, I guess you do make a good point," Iolaus agreed as he reached into his belt. "How much?"

"Ten obols," the kid told him.

"TEN obols!" the blond challenged – and then they were into the bargaining, haggling like fishwives, the kid looking stern and Iolaus feigning astonished disbelief. When they settled on six obols, Iolaus shook his head as he handed over the coins. "You drive a hard bargain," he groused.

"It's a good net, handmade and guaranteed," the kid retorted, but his eyes were glowing. It wasn't often that anyone took him seriously enough to bargain, man to man. Actually, it hadn't ever happened before and it made him feel proud and grown up.

Giving his new acquisition a good inspection, the blacksmith nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I can see it's been well made. You do good work. So – what's your name?"

"Silas," the munchkin replied as he once again tried to nonchalantly toss the heavy bag over his shoulder. "And I know your name is Iolaus, 'cause that's what he calls you," he added as he jerked his head toward the demigod who loomed over him, seemingly not at all intimidated by the big man.

"That's right, and my friend here is Hercules," Iolaus replied.

For a moment, the kid went completely still and his eyes grew wide as he looked up and up at the tall demigod. "You're _Hercules?_" he gasped. Before the demigod had time to shrug diffidently, or Iolaus could roll his eyes impishly to tease the big guy about the typical reaction, Silas had shifted his wide-eyed gaze back to Iolaus. Blinking, the kid said with very evident awe, "Then, you're THE Iolaus!"

Disconcerted, Iolaus gaped at the tiny child, while Hercules laughed as he laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Yep, this is THE Iolaus, all right. My best friend and the only man I trust to back me up in a fight with monsters or warlords."

Iolaus couldn't help but feel a measure of pride that this kid seemed so impressed to meet him, for all that the mite hardly came up to his knee…and Hercules' sincere tone as he gripped his shoulder made him blush a little. He wasn't used to anyone being in awe of meeting _him_. "So, uh, you've heard of me, then?" he smiled slowly, more than a little surprised.

"Oh, yes!" Silas replied, very seriously. "I've heard stories about you – that even though you're just a mortal, and not all that big, you're a real hero! I'm going to be a hero, too, just like you!"

The demigod looked away and tried to hide his grin. Iolaus didn't take kindly to being reminded that he was barely of average stature, but he figured his friend wouldn't mind all that much, given the circumstances. Clearly, the little boy had made the mortal warrior a personal idol, an example of the kind of man he might aspire to be. So far as Hercules was concerned, the kid couldn't have chosen better.

For his part, Iolaus was looking a bit quizzical, not quite sure how to take the kid. It was nice that he wanted to be a hero, but he was – tiny – and, from the look of him, not very strong. The child was so sincere that it was clear he meant every word, but Iolaus wasn't sure it would be kind to encourage him in his dreams. Still, it would be far more unkind to mock them. Accordingly, he opted to change the subject.

"Uh, I haven't seen you around before," Iolaus observed. "You new in town?"

"Yeah. My Ma died a few months ago, and Pop I moved here from Corinth," Silas explained. "We've got a place by the quarry about two miles out of town."

"Ah, I see," Iolaus murmured, looking around. "Does your father have a booth in the market?"

"Nah," Silas snorted. "Pop doesn't much care for folks." Sniffing a little, his face carefully bland as his eyes shifted away, Silas added, "He's, uh, not all that well, so he stays home, mostly, and doesn't really pay much attention to what goes on. When he's up to it, he's a stone-cutter and people come to him to buy what they need. I make the nets and keep our garden…"

"Do you have brothers or sisters?" Hercules asked with a small frown, sensing there was more to the kid's story than Silas was letting on.

"Nope, just me and Pop," the little one replied crisply. Though he would have loved to linger with the two heroes, the truth was that he couldn't afford the time, not if he hoped to do much business in the market. "Well, I'd best be selling more nets," he said, his tone reluctant but resigned, as he pushed past them, his gait awkward and slightly rolling, as if either one leg was longer than the other or his pelvis was set at an angle.

"Silas," Iolaus called out, adding when the kid turned back to face him, "if you want, you can set up in my booth."

For the first time, the child smiled, and it transformed his face, as if a light shone from within. _"Really?"_ he sighed, as if he couldn't quite believe his good fortune. It was hard, in the busy market, to gain the attention of people so much bigger than he was – hard just to avoid being stepped on in the press of the crowd. And to have the chance to share a booth with his hero was – amazing!

"Really," Iolaus chuckled as he strode forward and laid a light hand on the lad's head. "C'mon, I'll show you." He would have taken the heavy bag to unburden the child, but he sensed that the little guy would somehow be insulted by such an act. Clearly, this kid fought hard to maintain his dignity, despite his physical challenges, and the blond blacksmith respected that.

Aeson and Clonus stared at the odd-looking child when they got back to the booth, and shook their heads when Hercules suggested they might know Silas from school.

"Uh," the little one immediately intervened bluntly, "I don't go to school. I haven't saved enough yet from selling my nets to afford the tuition."

"But, doesn't your father…" Hercules began, appalled at the increasingly clear message that this child was inordinately self-sufficient despite his very young years – and knowing full well he wouldn't be so independent if he had a parent looking out for him.

"We're poor," the kid cut in, with rough embarrassment masked with the brisk fact of life. Well, it was the truth, after all. They _were _poor, even if not so destitute that his father couldn't have afforded the tuition if he'd felt Silas worth investing in, but he didn't. So far as his old man was concerned, he would have better died at birth, if he'd had to be born at all.

The two men exchanged a look but held their peace for the moment, easing the child's discomfort with the business of shifting some of the tools Iolaus had made, and setting out Silas' nets on the table, draping a couple to show them well. When Aeson and Clonus discovered that their beloved uncle had bought one of them, they clamoured to own one, too. With good grace, Hercules cocked a brow at Silas, who looked from him to Iolaus and shrugged. There was no point in bargaining, as the demigod already knew what Iolaus had paid – and that was an obol more than he usually got. "Six obols," he said simply, and happily accepted the coins the big man gave him.

Hercules gathered up his new ploughshare, fishing net and sons as he said, "I'll see you later at Mother's." With an indulgent look down at the skinny little kid, he winked at Iolaus as he added, "And bring your new business partner if he's also free for dinner."

Silas looked around, wondering where Iolaus' business partner was, and if he'd mind sharing the booth with a purveyor of fishing nets. "Who's your partner," he asked curiously after Hercules and his sons wandered off into the busy market.

"He meant you," Iolaus grinned down at the lad and then, at Silas' look of astonishment, waved at the wares in front of them. "Well, we _are_ sharing a market booth," he added as he up-ended an empty wooden crate beside him, and then unceremoniously lifted Silas to sit upon it, so that he could see and be seen over the table of wares.

"Partners?" Silas marveled, wide-eyed, and then grinned like the imp he was. "I think I'm going to like doing business with you, Iolaus."

"Same here, kid," the man warmly assured him with a low chuckle of amusement.

As the day wore on, the man and the boy did a steady business, and Silas became known in the village of Thebes as a friend of Iolaus. As the sun climbed and the bearers of water and ale, pails of soups with bowls piled on their heads, or trays of hot meats or cool vegetables and fruits wandered between the market stalls, the blacksmith bought them both lunch and an extra skin of water to see them through the hot afternoon to come. Silas wanted to pay his own way, but Iolaus just shook his head. "Today's on me," he said, blithely, "to celebrate our new partnership. Your turn will come, don't you worry about that."

The ravenous child downed two bowls of soup and a skewer of broiled chicken as well as two apples, while Iolaus gazed at him with mingled bemusement, wondering where the waif put all the food in his tiny body, and sorrow, that the child was evidently so very hungry.

Business fell off in the hot hours of the midday, so they rigged some shade with a piece of canvas over their booth and took the time to get to know one another better. Iolaus, to encourage the kid to loosen up some, told Silas about being born in Sparta, and then growing up in Thebes. One story followed another as he reminisced about how he'd met Hercules, and his mother, Alcmene, and how he'd lived on the streets for a while. "My father was a hard man, a general, and we didn't get along. He was ashamed of me, to tell you the truth, because I wasn't big and strong like him."

"Oh," Silas murmured, his expressive eyes full of compassion. "That hurts, doesn't it," he continued knowingly, unconsciously revealing more personal information than he'd ever shared with anyone before. "My Pop doesn't think much of me, either," he sighed, but then straightened his shoulders. "It's stupid, isn't it? The way folks think that size makes a difference? It's not like all tall and strong people are good and brave, so why do people assume that small people are weak and afraid?"

"I don't know," Iolaus shrugged. "I guess they just aren't very smart, Silas." The blond hesitated for a moment, then ventured, "You said your father isn't well…"

Sniffing with a slight expression of embarrassed disparagement, Silas looked away. "He's not _really_ sick," he admitted quietly. "But he's been drinking a lot since Ma died and, well, he's never sober anymore. He hardly ever works, and I don't know what he'll do when he runs out of the money he got when he sold our place in Corinth – maybe then he'll go back to working every day."

Chewing on his lip, Iolaus frowned as he looked away. "Does he hit you?" he asked softly, knowing from personal experience that he was venturing into very private, often hidden, territory. "My Dad used to hit me, sometimes…"

"Yeah, sometimes," Silas admitted off-handedly, as if it were no big deal. "But, usually, I'm too quick for him, and I just get out of the way."

"Uh huh," the blacksmith grunted, his jaw tight as he wondered what manner of man could abuse his own child, let alone one so small and frail. He was both disgusted and infuriated – and it sickened and scared him to think of what a well-placed solid blow from a grown man could do to such a little boy. It wasn't right, but there was little that could be done about it – a man had the right to discipline his wife or children any way he saw fit.

"You ever been to school?" he asked then, to change the uncomfortable subject. "Sounded like you were hoping to be able to go when you save up enough…"

"No, I've never been to a school. I just turned eight a month ago, so I was too young before," the mite replied briskly. "But I want to learn. I know I'm not stupid, but I need to know how to read and write."

Thoughtfully, Iolaus studied the child. Tuition for a year of schooling wasn't all that much, a stipend really. And it seemed to him that the kid could use a break.

"Silas…" Iolaus began, treading carefully so as not to offend the independent child, "how about we make a business deal? I'd like my partner to be able to read and write – and I can see from the quality of your goods and your industriousness, that you'll make enough to pay the tuition eventually. Maybe, well, if you'd agree, I could loan you the money and you could repay me over the next few months…"

"But you don't even hardly know me!" Silas protested in utter surprise. "I could take your money and never come back! Cheat you!"

Turning to look the boy full in the eyes, Iolaus shook his head as he replied seriously, "I know you well enough to be certain that you're brave and honest. I can see you have a determined spirit and that you're smart and observant. I'm pretty good at judging people, and I trust you."

The crooked little mouth quivered a little as the child looked quickly away to blink suddenly stinging eyes. His whole tiny body shook with his effort to hide the sob that welled in his chest. Iolaus, _his hero_, thought he was brave and honest, and even _trusted_ him! No one had ever said such things to him before and he was very nearly undone by the kind candour. Sniffing, his voice cracked a little as he vowed, "I promise I'll never let you down, Iolaus…"

"I know that," the man replied soberly. "So, will you accept a small loan? To go to school?"

Nodding slowly, knowing it might take him months to save enough and he'd miss a full year of studies otherwise, Silas accepted. "You're…you're a really nice guy," he acknowledged quietly. "I feel lucky to have met you."

"Works both ways, partner," Iolaus replied with a soft smile as he ruffled the tike's spiky locks. "I think we're going to be very good friends, you and I."

Later, as they packed up what was left of their goods at the end of the day, Iolaus asked off-handedly, "So, you got plans for supper?"

"No, not really," Silas admitted, looking away to hide his delight at having been asked – he'd hoped all day that Iolaus would ask him after Hercules had made the offer. "Pop never cares if I'm home or not – never even notices, to tell you the truth."

"You want to come with me to meet Alcmene, and the rest of Hercules' family?" the blond man asked. Grinning, he added, "She's the best cook in the whole world – but she'll make us wash up before she'll let us in the house."

"I don't mind washing up," Silas grinned back.

Alcmene was in her garden, cutting fresh herbs to garnish the meal, when Iolaus and Silas walked up the lane, both of them carrying their vastly depleted sacks of unsold goods over their shoulders, looking tired and dusty. Straightening, she smiled in welcome, calling out, "Iolaus, I'm glad to see you! It's been too long. And who's your friend?"

"This is Silas, my new market-day partner," Iolaus introduced the mite. "He sells fishing nets that he makes by hand so, between us, we pretty much cover the needs of most men for the basic tools to feed their families. Silas, this is Alcmene."

"I'm pleased to meet you, ma'am," the little one said soberly. "Iolaus said you wouldn't mind if I came for supper."

"I'm glad to meet you and I don't mind at all," she replied cheerfully, hiding her curiousity. In years past, Iolaus had often brought lost or wounded strays home to her to be fed and cared for, and it looked like he'd found another lost little soul. There would be time enough to learn the child's story. "There's plenty of food and new folks are always welcome at my table. But…" she hesitated, regarding the child's scruffy appearance.

"I know," he cut in with a cheeky grin. "We have to wash up before we can go into the house. Iolaus told me."

Laughing, she pointed them toward the wash basin and pitcher of water by the door. Going in ahead of them, she went directly to the back bedroom, the one the boys had used in their youth, and rummaged in a trunk to find old, but still good clothing from when they had been very young, indeed. Bringing it into the kitchen as the two friends entered, she asked, "Silas, I wonder if you could do me a favour? I've got lots of old clothes around from when Hercules and Iolaus were little, but Clonus and Aeson have outgrown the garments already. I wonder if you'd mind taking them off my hands."

He looked up at her owlishly, knowing charity when he saw it. For a moment, he considered refusing, but realized he needed whatever help he could find. Sighing, he said softly, "You're the one doing me a favour. I know I'm pretty ragged, but this is the best I have. Since my Ma died, I've grown a bit and the clothes she made for me don't fit anymore. I'd be grateful if you could spare a shirt and a pair of pants…"

Soberly, startled a little by how grown up the little one sounded, Alcmene told him, "I'm sorry to hear you lost your mother, child. I can certainly spare you a bit of clothing – and if you ever need anything, anything at all, you hear me – you come to me."

"Oh, you'd soon get tired of having me around," the little one protested with a shrug. It was a nice offer, but he didn't really believe it. No one had ever wanted to have him underfoot, not even his own mother when she'd been alive.

Squatting down to look at him full in the eyes, Alcmene insisted, "I mean what I say. If you're hungry or cold, or even just lonely, you come here. I miss having children around – and I could use some help with the garden. Trust me – I'll never get tired of having you visit."

Silas looked from Alcmene to Iolaus, who nodded at him encouragingly. Shaking his head, he looked back at the kind, beautiful woman with wonder in his eyes. "Fortune was sure smiling on me when she led me and Pop here to Thebes," he said very seriously. "I've never known such nice people as you and Iolaus and Hercules."

Unable to resist, Alcmene smiled as she reached out to give Silas a quick, firm hug. "Maybe we're the ones Fortune was smiling upon when she sent you to us. Did you ever think of that?" she asked softly, and then pulled back. Standing, she assigned them table-setting tasks as she turned to finish preparing the meal.

Hercules and his family arrived shortly after, and the small cottage was soon filled with laughter and easy chatter. The children were sent outside to play after the meal was consumed and, while Alcmene and Deianeara cleared and washed the dishes, Hercules and Iolaus went to scrounge in the barn. A few minutes later, they emerged with a small wagon they'd played with as boys. It was dusty and battered, but the wheels still worked and the wooden box was intact.

"Silas," Hercules called out as he dropped to one knee to set the wagon on the ground. "Would this be something you could use to haul your nets back and forth to town? Iolaus and I used to use it a lot, and it's old, but it still works."

The child's face lit up with a bright smile as he inspected the little vehicle. It was a perfect size and, experimenting with it, he found it easy to pull. The bag of unsold nets by the doorway, and the small stack of clothing Alcmene had given him, all fit inside with room to spare. "This is great," he exclaimed enthusiastically. "Thanks!"

As the evening edged toward dusk, Iolaus said he'd walk Silas home, and they set off after thanking Alcmene for the great meal.

"Remember to come visit me, Silas," she reminded the child as they turned to leave.

"I'll remember," the child replied with a shy smile.

Iolaus set an easy pace, mindful of the boy's very short legs – and concerned that Silas sounded slightly breathless when he was walking. It was a fair distance to the child's home, and the warrior was worried that the kid seemed almost on the edge of exhaustion. Though Silas's expression was animated and he seemed happy, he was also a bit too pale and pinched for the blacksmith's liking. Finally, he looked down at the kid and asked with anxious concern, "Silas, are you okay? You sound all puffed out and you look really tired."

Shrugging, the mite replied, "I'm always having trouble breathing, especially when I walk much. This is normal for me – don't worry."

Lips compressed, Iolaus shook his head. "I don't want to insult you or anything, because I already know how independent you are but, well – how about you ride in the wagon while I pull it? At least until your breathing settles. I know I'd feel better if you'd do that."

Hearing honest worry for his wellbeing in the man's voice, Silas paused on the path and looked up at the blond blacksmith. The child was seriously beginning to wonder if he was a having a long, wonderful dream. Looking disconcerted, and figuring he'd better face facts if it _was_ a dream, he pinched himself, muttering, "Ow," and then he smiled brilliantly.

"What did you do that for?" Iolaus demanded.

"I was afraid that none of today was real," Silas replied quite seriously. "I had to see if I'm dreaming – but I'm not." Laying a hand on his new wagon, looking up at Iolaus, his eyes glowing with happy wonder, he sighed, "It's all real, isn't it?"

A soft look came into the warrior's eyes as he knelt to hug the child briefly. "Yes, this is all real, Silas, I promise you that," his said, his voice husky and a little rough with feeling. Then, without waiting for more permission, he gently lifted the child into the wagon. "You need to take it easy. I don't want you getting sick or anything…"

"The healer in Corinth always told me that I'm a sort of miracle," Silas confided then, a little shyly. "He said I shouldn't ever have lived when I was born, and that I should have died long before now. He said I'm too crooked and weak, that my body will never work right. But I just keep going. I figure I must have been born for some reason and I'll live until I've done whatever I'm supposed to do. I know it sounds stupid but, inside, I know I'm going to be a hero, Iolaus. Just like you."

Iolaus felt a twist of emotion in his chest at hearing the tyke talk so matter-of-factly about the fact he should hardly be alive and wouldn't likely live a long life – and at the childish confidence that despite all the barriers in his way, Silas was determined to make his life count for something. Gods, this kid must have been born brave, to manage as well as he did, to take the sorrows of his life in stride and not let them overwhelm him. There was a thickness in the man's throat as he nodded. "I don't know about the rest of what he said," Iolaus murmured as he turned to pull the wagon along. "But the healer was right about one thing. You really are a miracle, kid."

When they got close to where Silas lived, the child called out softly, "Uh, could we stop here? There's a hollow under a big tree, just over there, and that's where I leave my stuff…"

Scowling a little with concern, Iolaus asked, "Isn't there room in your house?"

"Well, I guess but, uh, well, Pop doesn't know I'm trying to earn money for school and he might not let me keep it…" the boy admitted quietly.

"Oh," Iolaus grunted. Wordlessly, he helped Silas conceal his wagon, bag of unsold nets and his small sack of coins – and in the hollow under the roots of the massive oak tree, the man saw the twine and needles the kid used to fashion his nets. Once everything was secure and well camouflaged with branches and leaves, Iolaus straightened and looked around, getting his bearings. "You know," he murmured, "my place isn't all that far from here. Just through that bit of forest and up the hill beyond. If you want, you can bring your stuff over there one day – maybe you could make your nets while I'm working in the forge." Without waiting for a reply, he looked down at Silas. "Do you want me to meet your father?"

Eyes dropping away, the child shook his head. "Not tonight. He won't be…sober…maybe another time."

"Will you be okay?" the 'smith demanded seriously.

"Sure, I'll be fine," Silas replied without any evident signs of concern. "He's likely asleep."

Nodding, not really happy about leaving the child behind, Iolaus realized there was little more he could do. He didn't have the right to take the boy from his father, however unfit the man was. "Okay," he agreed finally. "I'll meet you at the schoolhouse tomorrow. We can meet your teacher and get you settled into a class. Sleep well, Silas…"

"You, too, Iolaus," the boy called softly, as the warrior turned away to cut through the forest to his own home. Silas watched until Iolaus disappeared into the shadows, and then a sweet smile blossomed on his face as he recalled the magic of the day and contemplated the joys of the morrow.

Any private doubts he'd hidden, that he might not really be such a miracle or ever be a hero, vanished like smoke in the wind. Truly, his life was miraculous! Hadn't he just met his own personal hero? And become friends and partners already? And wasn't he full of good food for the first time in his life, so that he could sleep without feeling hungry? And he was going to school! Tomorrow! Dressed in clean new clothes, so he didn't have to be ashamed. And he could visit Iolaus and Alcmene whenever he wanted to – _every day_, if he wanted. They didn't treat him like a freak, but like a real person, and they _liked_ him! Life was just jammed-packed full of miracles and he was happier than he could ever remember being.

"I'll make you proud of me, Iolaus," he whispered into the night. "I promise."

_From that day on, Iolaus and Silas spent increasing time together. I remember the day they showed up, literally glowing with energy and happiness, as they held out the rabbits and pheasant they'd caught to share with me – provided I'd cook the game for them! Silas proudly showed me the small bow and quiver of arrows Iolaus had fashioned for him, and gabbled on excitedly as he told me how Iolaus was teaching him how to hunt and track. They'd apparently already gone fishing together, and Iolaus had shown him the swimming hole that he and Hercules had frequented as children. So, Silas no longer looked ragged, dirty, pale and pinched but, tanned by the sun and smiling brilliantly, more like a healthy and happy child. Proudly, Iolaus bragged about how long Silas could hold his breath, and how he was getting better at doing that every day. Looking into those expressive blue eyes, I could see relief as well as pride – Silas' lungs were getting stronger, and Iolaus hoped that meant the boy might grow healthier and not just fade away. _

_Sometimes, when they visited, Hercules would be there, and he'd join in their games, like a kid himself. It was so good to see them all laugh. Silas sure was a tease! He made no bones about who his favourite was, and even mocked Hercules with good humour about being so big and tall. When my son would lift him up onto his shoulders, little Silas would gasp with pretended horror at being so very high in the air, and say it made him feel dizzy and he'd likely get a nose bleed from the thin air at such great heights. He'd ask, as if very serious, how Hercules could manage his balance, being so tall and far from the ground – and then he'd giggle like mad at Hercules' equally pretended sense of having just been insulted. Once Hercules put him back down on the ground and finished tickling him until his laughter echoed across the meadow, Silas would scamper over to Iolaus, just to stand close beside him. I noticed that he was beginning to mimic how Iolaus stood and moved, and his expressions. It made me smile to know that the child clearly worshipped the ground Iolaus walked on – and touched my heart to see how very much Iolaus cared about the boy. My Iolaus has always had so much love to give, but he's known so much tragedy in his life. I wonder if he realizes how his love for Silas shines from his eyes…_

_As time went by, we began to understand how very intelligent Silas was. He always got the best grades in school, and yet he also had the skill and sensitivity to get along with other children, despite how strange they found him at first. Aeson and Clonus came to vastly enjoy his company, and were always full of stories of what Silas had done in school – how he was so smart and fun, always thinking up new games for them to play. The three boys became almost inseparable, showing up for cookies after school – and then Silas would say it was time for him to go visit Iolaus, and he'd take off with a happy grin, pulling his little wagon behind him._

_One day, Silas arrived looking pinched and scared. Though he shrugged off my concerns, and summoned up a gamin grin, I couldn't help but see the bruise on his cheek, and another on his arm. He also rubbed at his chest as if it pained him, but refused to let me take off his shirt to see if he was hurt. "I just took a tumble," he claimed, and shrugged again. But when Iolaus came by a little later, to drop off a new carving knife he'd made for me, I saw his eyes darken when he saw the bruises. And I could see that he didn't buy the 'I just took a tumble' story any more than I did. We were both furious and afraid for the boy._

"_I have an errand to run," Iolaus said then, with a meaningful look at me. "Silas, you stay here with Alcmene and I'll walk you home later."_

_But, 'later', we just let Silas fall asleep by the fire after supper, and then Iolaus carried the boy up the hill to his cottage for the night. _

_A day or two after that, Silas told me he really should have gone home, because his father must've taken a really bad fall or something, he was so blackened with bruises and his arm was broken. His father wasn't speaking to him, though, so he really didn't know what had happened. The poor child. I think he truly believed his father had stumbled over something in a drunken stupor. But, when his father stopped trying to beat him, he was too smart not to have wondered about Iolaus' 'errand' that day. I don't hold with fighting for the sake of it, or brutality of any kind – but I've always approved of appropriate punishments for unacceptable behaviour. I like to think that Iolaus got some of his own fine sense of justice from me…_

"'_**Mene! Alcmene!"**_ Silas called out as he ran as fast as his crooked little legs could race along the lane to her cottage.

He found her in the garden, sitting hunched on the bench under the bower, silent tears streaming down her face as she stared into space.

"_Alcmene?"_ he whispered hoarsely as he slowed and then hitched toward her. "I went to see Clonus and Aeson…and…and…"

Sniffing, she lifted a hand to brush away the wetness from her cheeks and turned to look at him, the grief in her eyes so sharp and painful that he gasped. "They are all gone, Silas," she told him, her voice rough with anger and sorrow. "Hera killed Deianeara and the children last night."

His face crumpled as his legs gave way and he sank awkwardly onto the ground. "Why?" he choked, stunned, hardly able to take it in.

"Because she hates me, and she hates my son," Alcmene replied bitterly as she looked away.

"Where's Hercules? And Iolaus?" he wondered then, looking around as if hoping to find them nearby.

Shrugging, she shook her head. "I don't really know," Alcmene murmured hopelessly. "Hercules is so angry and he wants revenge. But there is nothing he can do to change what has happened. I just know he's gone. And Iolaus? I just don't know…"

Silas pushed himself to his feet and moved to stand beside her, his little hand on her shoulder. "They'll come home, you'll see," he offered, wishing so badly that there was more he could do to console her. "I'm so sorry, Alcmene," he added, his wispy voice cracking with emotion.

She bent her head and lifted a hand to muffle a sob, and the child shifted so that he could hug her. Weeping inconsolably, she drew his small body close and he held her as well as he could while she cried. For a long time, he patted her back and murmured small words of care and concern, and then he made her go into the house to eat a little and then lie down. He built a small fire in the grate in her room, to keep her warm, and drew a blanket up over her shoulders. "Try to rest," he whispered as he gently touched her cheek. "And don't be afraid. Hercules will come home again…"

Later, he walked slowly up the hill to Iolaus' cottage, and then stood looking up at the stars while tears slid down his small face. Sniffing, he wondered guiltily why someone as bent and crooked and useless as he was should be alive, when Hercules' whole family, and Iolaus' too, had to die. It wasn't fair. None of it. Sighing, Silas reflected sadly that he had never hated anything or anyone in his short life, and he couldn't understand how a goddess could hate little kids enough to kill them. It scared him – and infuriated him – and left him feeling so very helpless.

"There _has_ to be a reason," he whispered brokenly to the heavens. "A reason why I was born and allowed to live…and they weren't." But his lip trembled, and he wished with all his heart that he knew what it was. Because there didn't seem to him that there was ever anything that could explain why Clonus and Aeson and little Alia or Hercules' beautiful and so very kind wife should have had to die…

"Why do good people have to suffer such pain?" he cried out, then, angry at the cruelty and the injustice of their deaths. "All Hercules and Iolaus ever try to do is help other people! Why do such terrible things have to happen to them and the people they love?"

But there was no answer on the night wind, or from the stars sparkling in the cold dark sky. Sniffing again, he rubbed the tears from his eyes and turned to amble awkwardly toward the cottage.

He'd keep watch until Iolaus came back.

And he'd try _very_ hard not to worry that Hera would take Iolaus from Hercules, too.

Almost a week went by with no word from either the demigod or his best friend. Every day, Silas checked on Alcmene, to make sure that she ate something. Though his own heart ached with the loss of his young friends, and with his fears for the two men, he tried to be brave for her as he did his best to comfort her and, sometimes, to distract her from her grief and worry by acting the clown. Without fail, each day before he left, he told her with confident conviction that they would come home sometime soon.

And every day, he climbed the long hill to tend to the small garden behind his hero's cottage, sweep out the dust driven in by the wind and haul in fresh water from the well. And then he would sit down on a bench by the cottage wall, his heart heavy as he looked out over the land until it got too dark to see – watching and waiting for Iolaus to come home, safe and sound.

But, as the days wore on, his heart grew heavier still, and his fears grew larger. Though he tended to Alcmene, and harried her to eat to stay strong, he found no interest in food himself. He wished he had some idea where Iolaus and Hercules had gone, so that he might have followed after them and tried to help them with whatever they were doing. One day, he told himself – to hold onto the belief that they'd come home safely – he'd travel with them and be a hero, too. He'd learn how to fight – and even if he was too small to be any real good in battle, he could cause a distraction or sneak into small places to get information or eavesdrop on enemies. To prepare for that time, he took one of Iolaus' knives from the forge and began to practice throwing it – figuring that even if he was little, he didn't have to be useless in a fight.

And, finally, he heard footsteps on the path and he peered around the corner of the cottage to see who was coming. His heart skipped – and then he was racing with joyful relief toward Iolaus.

"_**You're home!"**_ he called out, as he threw himself into the warrior's arms and hugged Iolaus tightly.

"Silas!" Iolaus exclaimed, surprised and touched by the exuberant welcome from a home that had grown too silent over the years. He was heart-sore and desperately weary, having just told Alcmene that Hercules had struck out on his own, as well as grieved and so very worried to have been left behind by his best friend. Holding the boy a little away, studying him intently and noticing the dark circles of worry and lack of sleep, feeling the small bones too sharply, so that he knew Silas had lost weight, he swung the child up into his arms.

"I'm so sorry," the boy murmured as he linked his arms around Iolaus' neck and buried his face into the man's shoulder. "When I heard what happened, I felt so bad…"

"I know, son," Iolaus sighed, stroking the lad's back as he carried him into the cottage. Looking around, he could easily see the evidence of care – the logs in the hearth and water in the pitcher by the basin for him to wash, the swept floor and even a few sprigs of wild flowers in a clay jar on the table. "You've been looking after things for me, haven't you?" he said as he set Silas on a chair.

"I told Alcmene that you and Hercules would come home – every day I told her," the boy replied, but he was shaking with emotion he was trying hard to suppress. "Hercules did come home, too, didn't he?"

Sighing, Iolaus looked away as he shook his head. "No," he replied quietly. "Herc needs some time on his own for a while…"

When he looked back at the child, he saw that tears had filled Silas' eyes, though the boy was blinking hard to keep from crying. "Hey, Silas, I'm sorry you feel so bad about what happened," Iolaus soothed, as he dropped to one knee beside the child. "Don't worry about Hercules – he just needs a little time, that's all."

Sniffing, the boy nodded as he looked away. "I tried to be brave," he said softly. "I really did. But I was so afraid that Hera would hurt you, too…" His voice cracked and he bowed his head in humiliation at his lack of control – he wanted to be a hero, and here he was, on the verge of crying like a baby.

Iolaus' throat tightened as he drew the child into a tight hug. "Shh," he murmured when he felt sobs shudder through the boy's small frame. "I'm here. It's okay…"

"I was so scared," Silas whispered. "I love you, Iolaus…"

Tears glistened in the warrior's eyes as he held the boy against his chest. "I love you, too, Silas," he affirmed with quiet strength.

Once Silas had calmed, Iolaus leaned away, and shook his head. "You haven't been eating, have you?" he chided, worried about the child.

"Well, I wasn't very hungry…"

"Uh huh," the warrior grunted as he stood. "Well, we need to get some meat on those bones. You're too skinny by half, my lad. Let's go catch us some dinner – we'll use your excellent net, okay?"

Smiling through his tears, Silas nodded and hopped down from the chair. They left the cottage moments later – and, though he felt childish when he slipped his hand into Iolaus', he was glad when the warrior didn't laugh or tease, but just held on as they headed toward the stream.

_The first time I met him, I'd said to Silas that he might well have been Fortune's gift to us – and so he proved to be in those days and months, and even years, after Hercules left to wander on his own. After my grandchildren and daughter-in-law were murdered so brutally, I'm not ashamed to admit that I needed, very badly, a child to love and fuss over, to fill the empty spaces in my world. From the first day after they were murdered, Silas came every day to see how I was, to bring me a handful of wilted flowers or something he'd made for me at school – a misshapen clay bowl he'd hand-painted, a wooden spoon he'd carved and a lovely tablecloth he'd woven just for me. He asked me to tell him stories, about when Hercules and Iolaus were boys, and when he sensed I was ready, he asked me to tell him about my grandchildren, when they'd been little. One day, as I watched for him along the lane, I realized that I was no longer simply grateful to have another voice in the cottage, another child to feed and clothe, but that I had come to love him for himself, for the special person he was, as much as I loved those I'd lost…_

_And I know he was a gift to Iolaus. I honestly don't know how my fine man would have endured those first months after Hercules left, without Silas. They became practically inseparable, and I could see how much Iolaus had come to love the child. Silas gave Iolaus a reason to keep going, to keep caring – and a reason to stay home rather than wander off aimlessly on his own. I knew he was sorely hurt by what felt like a rejection by Hercules, and that Iolaus was also terribly worried about my son during his long absences – without Silas to distract him and keep him busy, I think he would have been truly lost. I have always loved Iolaus as if he were my own son – and I have Silas to thank for the fact that Iolaus was able to weather those hard times without becoming embittered or unbearably lonely._

_In time, Iolaus began to travel with Hercules again, as they had in their youth. I knew Silas found it as hard as I did to watch them stride away, and that he missed both of them, Iolaus particularly, when they were gone. In their absence, he kept up his studies at school and kept making fishing nets that he hauled in his little wagon to the weekly market. And, he kept coming to check on me, to be certain that I was all right. Sometimes, bashfully, he'd bring cloth he'd bought with the coins he'd earned from selling his nets, and ask me if I'd make him a new shirt, or a pair of pants, as his had grown ragged and too short. I was glad to help this motherless child, glad to do all I could to make his hard life a little easier._

_As the years passed, Silas grew a little taller, but not much. Still, he had a presence that was compelling. I saw it at the market, in the way people listened to him, and felt it when I was with him. There was strength in the core of him; a huge heart and a very brave spirit within the frail body. He was wise beyond his years, and both compassion and uncanny understanding of other people shone from his eyes. But, for all that, he was also an imp, constantly teasing and laughing, scattering happiness, like seeds, wherever he went. There was confidence in his voice for all that it remained a bit squeaky – a steadiness about him that was unshakable. He never said anything about how much he missed Iolaus, nor did he ever complain about the occasional bruise I'd see when Iolaus was away, but I suspected his father had begun to abuse him again. He reminded me so much of another brave little boy who'd also carried bruises without complaint so very many years ago – and who also just took whatever life dished out and made a banquet of it. It was in his simple but abundant joy in life that he was most like Iolaus…_

_Whenever Iolaus came home, Silas glowed like a bright candle, his unbridled happiness a glory to see. And once again, they'd disappear into the woods together, to hunt or fish – or to swim, so that Silas could show Iolaus that he was able to hold his breath under water for longer and longer periods of time. It seemed important to him that he prove to Iolaus that he was growing up and getting stronger…_

…_but I was afraid that he wasn't getting stronger. His breathing seemed ever more ragged as he puffed up the lane for his daily visit. And he seemed to tire earlier in the evenings – he was far too pale and no matter how much I got him to eat, he never seemed to put any weight on those crooked little bones. _

_One day, about a week after Hercules and Iolaus had gone to deal with some monster terrorizing a village miles away, I went up to Iolaus' cottage to, well, just to be there for a while. And I found Silas sitting under a tree, looking out over the countryside in the direction they had gone. Sitting down beside him, I put my arm around his frail shoulders and drew him close. "They'll be all right," I told him. "You'll see."_

_Heaving a sigh, he nodded. "I just wish I was old enough to go with them," he murmured. Looking up at me, he told me then, quite seriously, "I was born for a reason, Alcmene – to do something important and necessary. I know it – I can feel it. I shouldn't have lived at all, let alone this long. I just know I'm going to be a hero some day – like them. I'll make them, and you, proud of me, I promise."_

"_You already make us all very proud," I assured him, swiftly. "You're smart and you work hard. You never let anything or anyone discourage you. Your life hasn't been easy, but you've met all your challenges bravely and with a willing spirit. You are a good person, Silas – and I'm so grateful that you came into our lives."_

_He smiled at me, and hugged me, as he murmured softly, "You always make me feel so special…"_

"_You are special, Silas," I insisted, holding him close. "Don't ever let anyone tell you any different."_

_Looking down at him, I could see him smile softly as he leaned against me. But then the smile faded. "Soon," he whispered. "Whatever it is, whatever I'm supposed to do, it has to be soon. I don't think I've got a whole lot of time left…"_

_His tone was matter of fact, if soft and reflective. He didn't seem alarmed so much to know that death was hovering somewhere nearby, as much as he was concerned that he might fail to fulfill his purpose in life, fail to be the hero he felt destined to be. He didn't seem to realize that he showed more courage every day of his life, more strength and fortitude, more determination and bravery than most ever contributed in a lifetime. Gods, that child was so unconsciously brave that it stole my breath away and left me with tears blurring my eyes. _

_Listening to his rough breathing, my heart hitched to know he was right…_

…_his time with us was running out._

Silas was weeding the garden while Alcmene finished making soup for their lunch, when horsemen turned off the road and rode up the lane. Stiffening, wondering if they meant some kind of trouble, Silas regarded them warily, noticing the rich blankets and harnesses, the wealth of silk, leather, jewels and gold in the clothing and armour of the men…and he could hardly miss the gold circlet around the brow of the man in the lead.

"Alcmene!" he called urgently. "A King is coming to see you!"

She'd just come to the door when they pulled up their horses and he dismounted. "Jason!" she exclaimed, flustered. "I wasn't expecting you…"

He smiled then, but nervously, Silas thought, as he bowed his head for a moment. Looking back up into her eyes, he replied, "It's taken me too long to find my way to your door, Alcmene. But I hope you'll not turn me away."

She smiled, too, made uncertain by his tone and manner – so gentle and hopeful. "You know you are always welcome here…"

Clearing his throat, Silas stepped forward, a stern expression on his face. "Excuse me, King Jason. I'm Alcmene's friend – and I'd appreciate knowing your intentions, sir. I wouldn't want anyone to take advantage of her good nature."

"Silas!" Alcmene gasped, shocked that the lad was so straightforward and blunt with the King of Corinth, but she couldn't help grinning a little at his intervention on her behalf. In Greece, women were protected by their men and, though he was small and yet still a boy, Silas clearly intended to protect her virtue.

"Silas?" Jason echoed, gazing down at the small being who had planted himself on the path to the door.

"Yes, sir, Silas of Thebes," the boy acknowledged. "I've heard of you and know you to be a friend of Hercules and Iolaus. But, if I may say so, sir, it seems clear that you know they aren't here – and that you wanted to find Alcmene alone."

"How old are you, lad?" the King asked then, amused by the directness and perception of the child – he could wish that all in his life dealt with him so matter-of-factly.

"Nearly twelve, sir."

"Almost a man, then," Jason observed, soberly. "Alright, then, I'll answer your challenge. I love the Lady Alcmene and hope to make her my Queen. I've come to ask her to consider my suit and to give me time to prove my affection for her."

Silas' brow quirked in surprise, and he'd heard Alcmene's gasp of astonishment behind him. "Well, sir, I agree she would make an excellent Queen," the boy said with a considering nod. Turning to the woman in question, he looked up at her as if serious, and then winked, as he asked, "What say you, Lady Alcmene? He seems fit enough, in good health. Some might find him handsome. He'd likely make a good lover and, well, as a King, he'd have the means to keep you in comfort. Will you consider his offer or should I send him on his way?"

"Silas, you imp! Let Jason pass," Alcmene laughed, not sure whether to be embarrassed or thrilled, but excitement flared in her chest, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes sparkled like a young girl's at the thought of being wooed by Jason.

"It seems she'll have you, sir," Silas observed dryly as he turned back to the King. With a flourish, he bowed and waved the King forward but, as Jason passed, he growled, "Be good to her, sir, or you'll answer to me."

Pausing, Jason looked down at the lad, his expression very serious, as he vowed, "I promise to care for her as the greatest treasure in my life – I would die to keep her safe."

"So would I, sir – I'll hold you to your word," the youth returned bluntly – but then he smiled guilelessly as he continued, "I sure hope you make her real happy, King Jason. She's the most wonderful woman on the face of this earth and you'll be a lucky man if she decides to marry you." He began to turn away, but then paused a moment, as he added a cautionary note and an offer of help, "Hercules is a whole lot more protective than even I am of Alcmene, so if you need help calming him down when he finds out, just let me know. But, he's a fair man and, if you make her happy, I'm pretty sure he'll get used to the idea of his good friend being his step-father."

Alcmene and Jason both laughed nervously at that, each of them knowing Hercules wasn't likely to take the courtship lightly. Silas just shook his head at them both. "So, what are you standing around out here for? The Lady has made a good soup for lunch and I'm sure she'll be glad to share it with you. Go on!" he urged, making shooing motions with his hands as he giggled merrily. "Oh," he called back over his shoulder as he turned to scamper along the path, "don't worry that I'll tell anyone. I know the meaning of the word 'discretion'!" Snickering again, he saluted the four guards who had ridden in with the King, and jauntily set off down the lane with his wagon.

"You have a stalwart protector there," King Jason observed, only half in jest.

"Silas is a very brave lad, Jason," Alcmene agreed, closing the door, leaving the world outside as she turned to the man who would be her husband before the summer passed.

Hercules and Iolaus returned from an adventure with a young dragon in time to celebrate Silas' twelfth birthday. They began with a hearty breakfast at Alcmene's cottage, to give them a good start on the day, and then Alcmene gave Silas her gift to him – a new, bright red, cloth jacket, with a cap to match, to keep him warm in the still early spring days and evenings. Though he was invited to go fishing with them, Hercules begged off, claiming he had to work on the stone wall around his mother's cottage – but Iolaus knew that Herc was just giving him some time alone with Silas and he was grateful.

The two companions set off in high spirits, with a picnic basket from Alcmene to add to the bounty of whatever fish they might catch. It was one of those perfect spring days, when the warmth of the sun promises the summer to come and the wind was fragrant with the scent of blossoms and wildflowers. Though clouds hung low over the distant peaks, the sky above was a clear, crystal blue. Iolaus told Silas the story of the lonely young dragon, and how he'd been used by a ruthless warlord to terrify the people in the village – if he skipped the bit about the warlord's lover, Silas would never know.

Silas, for his part, was dying to say something about Jason coming to call on Alcmene, but he kept his promise and held his peace. The happy secret made his eyes sparkle, though, and he brimmed with laughter and giggles all the perfect day. They caught their fish, and then ate them over a crackling fire. And then they swam in the cool water, refreshing in the midday heat – and Silas proved to Iolaus that he'd kept practicing and was able to hold his breath longer than ever before. Once they were back on the bank and dried off, the small youth decided it was time to show Iolaus his skills with a knife – and he amazed the man with his speed and accuracy, time and again.

Iolaus was delighted with Silas' demonstrations of his strong lungs and even more with the boy's skill – though he looked awkward, he had great hand and eye coordination and had worked hard to learn how to defend himself and others, should the need ever arise. His Silas was becoming a man, for all that he was less than three feet tall – a good man, and Iolaus was very proud of him. But he couldn't help but wonder what kind of life the man would have. Too many judged by appearances alone, and though Silas would one day be more than worthy of the love a good woman, Iolaus wondered if he'd find that special one who would see into his heart and soul and recognize the greatness inside.

Remembering when he was twelve, and had begun to appreciate the charms of girls, Iolaus teased as they packed up to head home, "So, any young ladies at school vying for your attention yet?"

Silas blushed and looked away.

"Oh, ho!" Iolaus crowed, recognizing the signs of infatuation. "What's her name?"

"Lorelei," Silas replied with a quick look up, to see if his friend was mocking him. "She's pretty…and sweet. Smart, too," he added. "I dream about her sometimes…"

"Uh huh," the man murmured, smiling gently. "Well, that's pretty normal," he said, knowing they weren't talking just about 'dreaming'. "Men can't help but notice pretty girls and lovely women – and our bodies can't help but notice, too."

Silas blinked, swallowed hard and nodded. "Guess I'm pretty close to being a man then," he chuckled with just a little embarrassment – he was more excited about growing up than he was uncomfortable with all that it meant. Growing up, becoming a man, meant he was ready to travel with Iolaus and Hercules. It was time to become the hero he knew somehow he'd been born to be.

As they ambled along the forested path, the lad cleared his throat and took a deep breath. "Iolaus," he began, "I want to go with you the next time you and Hercules leave. I'm as grown up as I'm ever going to be – and you could see today that I'm strong and good with a knife. I could help you, watch your back, create distractions, sneak into places, 'cause nobody pays attention to me, and find things out…"

"Whoa, slow down!" Iolaus cut into the excited recitation of capabilities. "Silas…I know you want to help but…"

The warrior's voice faded away as he looked down into the earnest, eager face, and his heart twisted to know he was about to crush the hope that glowed in the lad's eyes.

When the silence lengthened between them, Silas probed, "But what?"

Iolaus' lips thinned as he looked away, as if searching the forest for the right words and then he sighed. There weren't any 'right' words, only words that would hurt, but they had to be said. He dropped to one knee to meet Silas' eyes as he said very gently, "Silas, you can't travel with me and Herc. Sometimes, we have to move fast and, no matter how hard you'd try, you'd have trouble keeping up. Besides, it's far too dangerous and you could get hurt. I'm sorry…"

"No, you don't understand," the lad argued vehemently. "I have to go with you! I was born to be a hero, Iolaus! I can keep up, I know I can. I've been practicing running and swimming – and well, if you had to run ahead, I'd catch up eventually. I'm not a little kid! Just because I'm small, it doesn't mean I'm helpless or useless!"

"I _know_ that," Iolaus agreed swiftly. "You're brave and skilled and you are just about the most determined person I know. But – it's _impossible_, Silas. I _won't_ put you in such danger."

The little pointed chin came up defiantly, but the dark eyes were deeply shadowed with hurt. For a long moment, Silas just stared at the man who'd been his hero all his life, the man who'd become his best friend and who he loved best of everyone in the whole world. And then his jaw tightened, as he grated, "You're just like all the rest! You only see my size – you don't really see _me_. Just like your father used to tell you, now you're telling me that I'll never be good enough, because I'm a runt. I thought you were different."

"Silas, you're wrong…" Iolaus tried to placate the kid and reached out to grab his shoulder.

But Silas shrugged off his hand and pulled away. Blinking against tears he refused to cry, the youth snapped, "I'll prove it to you someday – that I'm good enough. That size doesn't matter. Someday, you'll be proud of me."

"I _am _proud of you!" Iolaus nearly shouted, worried about the depth of Silas' anger and hurt.

"Are you? Or do you just think I'm a cute little kid, but you feel sorry for me 'cause I'm different, and it makes you feel good to pay attention to me?" Silas demanded furiously as he stepped back, one step and then another. "I told you a long time ago, you don't need to feel sorry for me!"

"Silas, you're not being reasonable!" Iolaus protested. "We fight monsters! And sometimes whole mercenary armies! I'd be worried about you all the time…"

"So I'd be a danger, not a help – a distraction to you, not the ones we'd be fighting," Silas replied coldly, getting the message very clearly. He wasn't wanted. He'd be nothing but a bother and trouble. "Fine. Have it your way. But understand this – I will find a way to be the man I was born to be me, with or without you. I don't need you or anyone else!"

And then he turned to run through the forest, away from Alcmene's and back toward his own comfortless home.

"_**Silas!"**_ Iolaus called out, knowing he could easily catch the youth, but reluctant to continue their argument. "Dammit," he muttered to himself as he watched the kid disappear into the shadows. His heart ached at the wounded look he'd seen in the boy's eyes, and the indignant, offended, unhappiness in the lad's voice – the last thing Iolaus ever wanted to do was hurt the kid. Sighing, he picked up the picnic basket and began his own trudge back through the forest. It couldn't be helped, he told himself. He'd never expected that Silas would expect to travel with them one day – and it _was_ impossible. Sure Silas was brave and smart – but he was too young, and just too frail. Better he have his feelings hurt than be killed.

Still, it bothered Iolaus that Silas thought he'd only ever spent time with the boy because he felt sorry for the kid. That had _never_ been the case. Sure, he could wish Silas didn't have to face the obstacles life had thrown at him, or believe it was vastly unfair but, from the very first, Iolaus had admired his spunk and resilience – and had very much enjoyed his wry humour and good company. The hollow feeling in his gut whenever he remembered the hurt in Silas' eyes and voice, told him clearly, if he hadn't already known for years now, that he spent time with the kid because he truly loved the boy…

He'd hardly gotten back to Alcmene's, when Iolaus learned that yet another call for help had come from a village in the mountains past Corinth. Some warlord was terrorizing the people there, stealing what little they had and demanding more. So he and Hercules hit the road immediately – there was no time to even begin to tell Alcmene that Silas was upset and might need comforting. So, as they left, he only said gruffly, "Silas wants to travel with Herc and me – I told him he couldn't and, well…"

But that was all that was needed. She could see Iolaus was worried about the boy and she just gripped his arm briefly, and said she'd look after Silas while they were gone.

Hercules noted Iolaus' unusual silence and air of worried preoccupation as they loped along the dusty road, making as much distance as they could before night fell. They skirted the large city of Corinth, taking to the forested hills and heading higher into the mountains. The air grew colder and before long, they felt the early mist of the storm that was raging higher up. Knowing that they'd only wear themselves out slogging through a cold, muddy night, soaked and chilled by rain, they crafted a shelter once it became too dark to continue going at a good pace. Iolaus caught a rabbit while Hercules built their fire, and then as they were eating, the demigod said quietly, "I heard what you said to Mother, about Silas. You're worried about him, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Iolaus freely admitted as he set a skewer of meat aside. He wasn't really hungry, anyway. "He caught me completely by surprise, Herc." Looking across the fire at his friend, he continued, "Silas wants, more than anything, to be a hero. He believes it's his destiny. And he was really hurt when I told him he couldn't ever travel with us – that he'd just get hurt."

"You were right," the demigod soothed. "The life we live would kill him in less than a week…"

"I know that," the warrior sighed. Pushing his fingers through his hair, he said unhappily, "Silas suggested that I don't respect him – that I've only ever felt sorry for him. But that's not true…"

Hercules stirred up the coals of the fire with a stick as he waited for Iolaus to continue. But when the silence lengthened, his best friend lost in thought, the demigod studied the older man, wondering how to help him – because he could see that Silas wasn't the only one who'd been hurt by the words they'd had. Finally, he asked, "There's more, isn't there? Something else is eating at you…"

The blond grimaced as he nodded. "Silas…Silas wants me to be proud of him," the warrior sighed. "And it kills me to know that, somehow, I've failed to show him that I _am_ proud of him – I always have been. As far as I'm concerned, that kid has been a hero every day of his life. He never gripes or complains, never moans about how the Fates cursed him with a body that can never match up to his spirit – he just says it's a miracle he's alive at all and goes out to face the world on its terms, never asking any quarter." For a moment, anger flashed in Iolaus' eyes and his jaw tightened as he growled, "That worthless sot, Cephas, doesn't deserve a son as fine as Silas is! The fool can't see how smart or resourceful, how funny and resilient, how damned brave his kid is – he can only see a misshapen body…and…Silas accused me today of only being able to see his deformity, not the person he is…"

Iolaus' voice broke and he swallowed before looking up with haunted eyes. "Sometimes, Herc… sometimes I feel guilty, 'cause I love him as much as I loved Telaus. I'd give anything for a son as fine as Silas is – I'd give all I have to take him away from that bastard and give him the kind of home and love he deserves…"

The demigod's eyes filled with compassion as he said quietly, "I don't think Telaus would ever mind you loving another son, Iolaus. I'd think he'd be glad for you." Pausing as he gazed into the fire, he thought a moment and then suggested, "Maybe you could adopt Silas."

"Yeah, like any magistrate is going to give me custody of the kid," the warrior scoffed. "We're hardly ever home, anymore."

"True, but I know Mother would support the idea and be there for him when you're away," Hercules countered. "And it's not the magistrate you'd have to convince. Silas is twelve now. By edict of the King, a childless man can adopt another man's son, once the child is twelve, to give the boy his name and inheritance, to give him a trade. I think the King might give you fair consideration."

Iolaus squinted at Hercules and then his gaze drifted away as he thought about the idea. Slowly, a smile formed on his lips and he nodded to himself. Suddenly excited by the possibility, he turned back to his best friend as he exclaimed, "You're right – Jason _would_ give me fair consideration. When I tell him about what Silas' father is like, the neglect all these years, I bet he _would_ approve the adoption! Herc, that's the best idea you've ever had! Damn, why didn't I think of it myself, long ago?"

"Wouldn't have done much good – the new adoption law was only proclaimed a few months ago," the demigod replied soberly. "You're sure about this? I know you love Silas, but you know as well as I do that being a father has more implications that just being his friend."

"Oh, I'm sure – I've thought of him as a son for years now but there was nothing I could do to make it happen. I, uh, had occasion to, um, talk to Cephas a few years ago, about how he treats Silas," Iolaus finally admitted, never having spoken of what had transpired that day to anyone before. "I told him, then, that I'd be glad to take Silas off his hands, since he only ignored or, worse, beat the boy – but the bastard said he'd see me in court if I ever tried. He likes the money the kid gives him from the nets he makes and sells – and wasn't prepared to give that up. I offered to pay him, even – though it made me sick, to barter like that, as if Silas was no more than property." Iolaus looked away and shook his head. "Cephas is mean clear through – he knew Silas wished he could be with me and, just out of spite, he said he'd never let me have him. About all I could do was make damned sure the creep understood, and would _never _forget, what would happen to him if I ever found out he beat Silas again."

Hercules shook his head sadly. He'd never understand the nasty, shriveled spirits inside men who were more monstrous than any beast he'd ever faced. "If Jason rules in your favour, Cephas won't have any choice but to let Silas be with you," he murmured.

Nodding, Iolaus chewed on his lip as he thought it through, wanting to settle everything as quickly as possible. "As soon as we're finished with this mission, I'm going to see Jason in Corinth – I can get his approval and tell Silas as soon as we get home."

The demigod smiled at the eager tone in his best friend's voice and the glimmer of happiness in Iolaus' eyes. "Sounds like a plan," he said warmly. "Congratulations, Iolaus, on your fine new son."

Early the next morning, Silas went to Iolaus' cottage, to apologize for how he'd behaved the day before. He could understand that he would be a burden and that Iolaus had been right to refuse him – and he felt very badly for the terrible things he'd said. But, Iolaus wasn't there, and the hearth was cold. Frowning, he trudged down the hill to Alcmene's place – and was devastated to learn that Hercules and Iolaus had already left to help some village miles away, in the mountains past Corinth.

Seeing how upset the boy was, Alcmene asked, "What's wrong, Silas – Iolaus has gone before without you feeling so bad."

The little guy hung his head and shrugged, but then straightened his shoulders to look back up at her. "We had a fight yesterday," he admitted manfully. "I said some things that I'm sorry about – and I wanted to apologize to Iolaus. But, now, he's gone and he'll think I really meant what I said…"

With a slight smile of encouragement, she replied, "You can tell him when he gets back…"

"But what if something happens to him?" the kid cut in, his fear-filled eyes revealing for the first time how _very_ worried he was _every_ time Iolaus went away to deal with evil. "What if he never knows…"

Drawing the trembling boy into a hug, Alcmene reassured him firmly, "Shh, don't be so afraid. They'll both come home safe. And, Silas, you must know that Iolaus realizes how much you love him – just as you know how very much he loves you. One fight won't change that – _nothing_ could ever change that."

Bleakly, he nodded.

But he still wished he hadn't gotten so angry or said the things he'd said.

When Jason rode in a little while later to visit with Alcmene, Silas took himself off. Sorrowfully, he trudged slowly toward his home.

But he hadn't gone far when he took a deep breath and shook himself. He was feeling sorry for himself and that wouldn't do. Heroes took setbacks in stride and just carried on. There were nets to make and sell – and only one more year to go before he was legally a man and could go and do whatever he wanted. He'd saved most of the money he'd ever made, giving only a portion of it to his father for his upkeep and the 'roof over his head'. Iolaus had never accepted a single dinar for the school tuition he'd paid all these years. They'd fought about that, too, Silas remembered with a small smile. He'd been proud and hadn't wanted to accept 'charity' – but Iolaus called it an 'investment' in his 'partner', the _best_ investment he could _ever_ make in the future, or so he'd claimed, then. He'd said that when Silas was grown up and on his own, and Iolaus was old and decrepit, that Silas could pay him back by making sure he didn't starve. It was all nonsense – Silas knew it then as much as he did now. Iolaus was being kind – Silas couldn't imagine that Iolaus would ever be 'decrepit' or on the verge of starvation. The very idea was enough to make the kid laugh at the ridiculous image. But he'd also understood that Iolaus was trying to show that he cared – and that had meant more than money ever would to the sorely neglected child. So he'd accepted the help with the tuition – and basked in the love.

Thinking about that long ago fight made Silas feel a little better about the one they'd just had. They'd made up then – and they'd make up again, just as soon as Iolaus got home. Deciding to be cheerful and to think only hopeful thoughts, Silas began whistling as he made his way toward his secret stash of hemp under the roots of the ancient oak.

Jason and his escort of palace guards were riding toward Corinth, along the old quarry road that skirted the forest, when he heard a man shouting wildly with anger, and a high-pitched voice crying out in pain. Frowning with immediate concern, the King wheeled his mount toward the voices and rode swiftly into the shadows of the ancient trees.

"You rotten, misbegotten, lying cheat!" Cephas roared, backhanding Silas so hard the kid slammed into the ground – and cried out in pain when his father kicked his ribs.

"_Please, stop!"_ the youth begged, curling to try to protect himself from the vicious beating.

"**STOP!"** Jason yelled in outrage as he came upon them. But Cephas was beyond noticing anything around him and continued to abuse his son. In a fury, Jason leapt from his saddle and grabbed the brute, slamming his fist into Cephas' jaw and sending him staggering back. Two of the guards, who had ridden into the small clearing, jumped from their horses to restrain the irate man before he could assault the King.

Jason whirled to kneel by the small, shuddering body and gently turned Silas toward him, supporting the boy's head and shoulders with his arm. "Easy, lad," he soothed as he quickly checked for injuries, appalled by the bruises on the boy's face and the scrapes on his small arms. "I won't let him hurt you any more."

"_**You have no right!"**_ Cephas shouted as he struggled to free himself from the strong guards. "He's _**my**_ son and I'll deal with him as I please! The little monster has been holding out on me! He has a fortune buried under that damned tree!"

"**Be silent!"** Jason shot back, his eyes flashing with deep anger.

"Who are you to order me?" the drunken man leered, insanity lurking in the shadows of his bloodshot eyes.

"I'm Jason, King of Corinth," came the frigid reply. "And _you_ are the only _monster _I see in this forest."

"Bah," Cephas grunted. "You could be Zeus, King of the Gods, for all I care! The boy has been lying to me, denying me his earnings, which are mine by right!"

Jason's eyes narrowed in disgust as he turned his attention back to Silas, who was barely conscious and whimpering with pain. Carefully, the King gathered the frail body into his arms and, with the help of one of his men, mounted his stallion. He ordered two of his men to gather whatever was hidden in the roots of the old oak, as well as Silas' possessions from the quarryman's hovel, and to bring all that they found to him at Alcmene's cottage.

"_**NO!"**_ Cephas protested.

Glaring down at the wastrel, Jason said with dangerous quiet, "You no longer have rights in this matter. You have abused your son for the last time – I am making him a ward of the crown. If you come near him again, or try to take his possessions, I'll have you clapped in irons. Am I clear?"

"But…"

Seeing that Cephas was beyond reason and having no patience with drunk's belligerence, Jason ordered another of his guards to have the man tossed into the jail in Thebes until he was sober enough to understand the King's ruling. By law, Silas was no longer his son. "Once you have him in chains, find the healer and bring him to Alcmene's home – go quickly! The boy is badly hurt, and there is no time to waste."

And then the King spurred his mount, to race out of the forest and back along the road, a single guard riding fast behind him. The child was no longer conscious and his breathing was raspy and far too fast…

_I was horrified by Silas' injuries. His brute of a father had beaten and kicked him within an inch of his life! Jason carried him into Hercules' old room, and laid the boy on the bed Iolaus always used when he was home, while I gathered up a basin of hot water, clean rags to wash him, and herbs and bandages to bind his wounds. When I rushed into the small chamber, all I could hear was his laboured, rasping breathing as he struggled to survive. Gods, that child had more strength of will and desire for life than ten full grown men._

_Both eyes were blackened and his nose was bleeding, but seemed unbroken. The skin on his right cheek was broken and bruised – and bruises had blossomed on his arms and legs and over his side and chest where he'd been kicked. I was most worried about his ribs. We undressed and bathed him, cleaning the dirt carefully from the cuts and scrapes. I was so angry that if his father had been within reach, I think I might well have torn him to pieces for what he had done to this gentle, sweet, child._

_The healer came not long after, and reassured me that his ribs were bruised, maybe cracked, but not broken – Silas must have rolled with the kicks and punches, absorbing them rather than fighting back. A memory flashed then, of Iolaus teaching the small boy, years ago, how to roll away from attack and how to curl to protect his head – lessons from long ago that might well have saved his life on this wretched day._

_We bound his ribs and propped him on pillows bigger than he was, to help him breathe. I stayed with him while Jason went to fetch a pitcher of cool water and a cup, as well as some soup from the hearth – he'd need nourishment when he awakened. _

_While Jason was gone, Silas woke briefly. He moaned softly as he looked around, confused. I tried to soothe him, and told him he was safe now, that no one would hurt him any more. "I'm sorry," he whispered, "for being such trouble…"_

_I bent to hug him, carefully so as not to hurt him further, and told him he was never any trouble._

"_He found me," the lad argued hoarsely. "I was making nets and thinking about how I'll be a man in one more year – and then I won't have to go back there again. It made me happy to think about that, and I was…whistling. I guess he heard me." He sighed and looked away, ashamed, "It was my own stupid fault. I should have been more careful."_

"_No, Silas," I told him. "It was not your fault – your father does not deserve so fine a son as you are! I'm sorry he hurt you. But, I promise you this, child – you are never going back there again. Jason brought you here, and here you will stay as long as you want."_

_Tears glistened in his eyes then, as he curled against me. "Thank you, 'Mene," he sighed as he relaxed in relief. "Oh, thank you!" Weary and hurting, he fell asleep in my arms._

_Jason stayed another day, until we were certain Silas would suffer no lasting hurt from the beating. But he seemed so frail, so very pale, as we watched him sleep. His will might be as strong and abiding as the mountains – but his body was wearing out…_

Once they'd arrived and learned what was happening, it took Hercules and Iolaus only three days to organize the villagers to resist the depredations of the so-called warlord and his band of cut-throats. They were all big, mean, cruel bullies – but they were also cowards and didn't have the stomach for a real fight. Still, they were also idiots, who failed to realize that the game they'd been playing was over until the two heroes and the villagers had cornered them in the rain-swept village square – several were killed before the rest threw down their weapons and called for mercy – as if they deserved it.

Fortunately for the bandits, the villagers were better men than they, so mercy was granted. The thugs were bound with rope and chains, and marched down the mountain path to the nearest town with a magistrate, where they were sentenced to prison.

And so, a week after they'd left Thebes, the heroes were headed back toward home, by way of Corinth. Iolaus wanted to waste no time in making his case to Jason. When he did get home, he wanted to be able to tell Silas that, if he'd agree, he had a new father and a new life as the son of Iolaus of Thebes.

"You think Silas will be okay with this?" Iolaus wondered nervously as they neared the gates of Corinth a couple of hours after dawn. "Maybe I should ask him first…"

Smiling indulgently, Hercules laid an arm around his best friend's shoulders as he replied, "Silas loves you as much as you love him – trust me, Iolaus, he's going to be better than 'okay' – he's going to be happier than you've ever seen him."

"You think?" the warrior asked, casting an anxious look up at his partner.

Chuckling, the demigod ruffled his friend's hair. "Relax! Everything's going to be fine," he promised.

Iolaus smiled gratefully and then nodded. Turning to walk with Hercules through the gates, he murmured softly, "My son, Silas." His throat tightened and his chest filled with emotion as he said the wonderful words. Gods, he loved that boy.

Though Jason was surprised when his two best and oldest friends were announced, he greeted them warmly, waving them toward comfortable chairs in his personal quarters. But Iolaus was too wound up to sit down. Without preamble, he launched into his request.

"Jason, uh, I've heard that you can grant the right of adoption," the warrior said earnestly, "and, well, I want to adopt a boy. He's twelve years old and lives in Thebes. His name is Silas and, well, his father has always neglected him. I can pay whatever fee is required…"

"Whoa, slow down," Jason called as he lifted his hands. Looking from Iolaus to Hercules, he had to quickly decide how much to reveal, as the demigod had no idea yet that he was courting Alcmene. They planned to tell Hercules soon, but this was not the time or place for him to learn he was about to have a new step-father. "I, uh, know Silas."

"You do?" Iolaus blurted, looking surprised.

"Yes, well, from time to time, I ride out to check on Alcmene," Jason replied slowly, trying to stay as close to the truth as he could. "I worry about her when you're both away…"

"That's really very good of you, Jason, thank you," Hercules acknowledged gratefully.

"Uh huh," the King grunted, waving the thanks away. "In any case, I've met Silas at Alcmene's and, I'm sorry to tell you the last time I was there, he was badly beaten by his father…"

"What? He's alright, isn't he?" Iolaus cut in, suddenly pale with fear for the boy. Dammit, he should have taken Silas away from that brute long ago!

"Easy, Iolaus – he'll be fine," Jason soothed. "I took him to Alcmene and made him a ward of the crown…"

"Oh," the warrior sighed, his face dropping. "I guess…I guess he's safer under your protection. I just wanted…"

"The boy needs a father who loves and wants him," Jason interrupted with compassion in his eyes. "Are you sure that you…"

"Oh, yeah, Jase!" Iolaus exclaimed. "I swear to you…I love that kid. I have for years. I just didn't have the right…"

"Well, now you do," the King proclaimed as he moved to his desk and drew forth parchment and a quill pen. In moments, he'd fashioned the writ of adoption. Looking up, he told Iolaus, "I'll have this proclaimed immediately, and placed in our Hall of Records." When Iolaus looked astonished that it could be this simple, Jason added playfully, "Congratulations, my friend. It's a boy."

A bright smile burst upon the warrior's face as Hercules thumped him on the back. "Silas is your son, now, Iolaus! Congratulations!"

Iolaus looked from Hercules back to Jason, and he had to tighten his jaw against the tremble of his lips and blink back sudden tears of joy. "Thank you, Jason," he said huskily. Taking a breath, he went on, "Now I have to get to Thebes, to tell him the good news!"

"You do that, Iolaus," Jason encouraged with a broad smile. "But, uh, Hercules, I wonder if you'd stay for bit longer. I want to consult with you on some problems with raiders…"

"Herc, you don't mind if I go on ahead, do you?" Iolaus asked quickly, eager to be on his way.

"No, my friend, I don't mind," Hercules replied with a happy grin. "You go on – I'll catch up with you."

Iolaus was already loping from the chamber before the demigod had quite finished speaking. Shaking his head, Hercules turned to Jason, as he said, "You've just made two people very happy, Jason. Iolaus couldn't love that kid more if Silas had been born his son. And Silas, well, he worships Iolaus. Thank you."

"Believe me, it was my pleasure, Hercules," the King replied. "It's times like this that I most appreciate the powers the crown gives me…"

A week after his beating, Silas was still a bit stiff and tired, but the bruises were fading and he figured it was time he started making himself useful again. He was weeding in the garden when Alcmene came out of the house with an empty tin pail hanging from one hand.

"I've heard the new berries on the river are ripe for picking," she told him with a warm smile. "I thought I'd go get some and then bake a pie for us. How does that sound?"

Straightening and wiping the grime from his hands onto his pants, Silas grinned. "Sounds like an _almost_ perfect plan," he replied, his tone teasing.

"Only almost?" she queried, amused.

"Uh huh," Silas returned as he ambled over to her with his awkward waddling gait. Holding out a hand, he added, "It would be perfect if I went for the berries and you stayed here and got the pastry all ready for them."

"Oh, Silas, I don't know…" she hesitated. "You're not yet completely recovered…"

"I'm fine," he insisted, lifting his chin and winking at her. "It's not far and the walk will be good for me. Please, Alcmene – I want to help."

"Alright," she agreed as she handed him the pail. "Take your time and don't get out of breath."

"I'll be okay," he assured her as he turned toward the river that ran through the forest between Alcmene's cottage and Thebes.

She shaded her eyes against the mid-morning sun as she watched him take off across the meadow, the grass so long already that she only caught flashes of his bright red cap and jacket. Frowning a little, she told herself that she was being over-protective. Silas was right; he'd be fine. But she shivered in the cool breeze that was fast quickening to a wind, and she drew her wool shawl more tightly around her shoulders as her eyes lifted toward the mountains, at the clouds that had seemed to be hanging over them for days. Hearing the distant rumble of thunder, she turned toward the woodshed, to bring in more logs. The storm would likely hit by nightfall, and they'd need the warmth of the fire.

Silas was puffing a little by the time he drew near to the river, coming out of the thick forest to walk along the path. He was surprised to be hit with a blast of wind, and it seemed darker than when he'd entered the woods. Looking up, he saw that the sky had become heavy with black storm clouds. Frowning, he figured he'd better hurry – and was glad the natural causeway to the small, shallow island in the middle of the river, where the best, juiciest berries grew in the spring, wasn't too far ahead. He could hear distant, high-pitched laughter and the voices of women and girls calling to one another cheerfully. It seemed Alcmene wasn't the only one planning to bake a pie for her family that day. He smiled to himself at that thought. Family. For the first time in his life, he was living with someone who genuinely cared for him, and it felt really good.

But, he told himself, he'd better step on it if he wanted to get there before all the berries were picked.

Only, he couldn't go as fast as he wanted, because his chest still ached, and he soon had to pause again to catch his breath. He could see the river now and the gaily coloured shifts and gowns of the women and children who bent to pick the berries from the bushes. Taking a deep breath, and then another, he set off again toward the causeway, close now and thought how lucky they all were that the river was low enough this early in the spring to get across it – later, the water would rise and the only way out there would be to swim or take a boat. When thunder rumbled, he looked up again, thinking that when the storm hit, the river might rise so high that access to the island would be cut off.

The same thought must have occurred to the women on the little island, for he could hear them calling to their children to stop their play – it was time to go home. Determined to get some berries for Alcmene, Silas was just climbing down the stony bank, when he heard a great roaring sound. Looking up, his eyes wide, he screamed to the women who had begun to cross the causeway to go back – yelling to them to hurry back onto higher land…

…and then a great swell of water, the accumulation of the mountain rains, swept down along the channel toward them. Screaming, most of the women grabbed their children to haul them back onto the island, but one lone girl raced toward Silas. The river roared, like a furious beast, a massive thunder of water and all that was caught in its mighty grip – broken tree limbs, dead cattle and sheep, boulders and mud from the heights.

Silas scrambled along the bank toward the girl and recognized his friend, Lorelei, from school. Grabbing onto a tree limb, he reached out, straining toward her, and she grabbed his small hand just as the raging waters hit. It was hard to hold her and the tree, but Silas gritted his teeth, and pulled with his whole body – and she clung onto him until he had drawn her to safety. Gasping with the effort it had taken as he hugged her, he looked across the now raging river and, vastly relieved, he could see that everyone else was safe, for the time being at least, on the shallow island.

"You saved my life!" she gasped as she clung to him, shivering, chilled to the bone by the icy water, and still terrified.

"It's okay, you're fine," Silas consoled her as he thought about the situation. They'd need rope, and men to help evacuate everyone from the island. "You need to go to Thebes, as fast as you can, to get help!" he told her. "I'll…I'll go back to Alcmene's – it's closer – and get some rope. Maybe I can start helping people off the island before you get back. Hurry!"

Stunned by cold and fear, Lorelei yet knew there was no time to waste. She scampered off down the path as Silas turned to run as fast as he could back to Alcmene's cottage. Suddenly, thunder crashed directly above, and then rain cascaded down, a solid sheet of nearly freezing sleety water, turning the path into a morass of mud in moments. Silas slogged through the mud as quickly as his short legs would go, but he kept slipping and falling, his breath harsh now in his chest. He cursed his small, useless body, frustrated as he'd never before been by the weakness and unsteadiness of his limbs, and was fighting back tears of despair as he continued to struggle forward, when he looked up to see a miracle.

Iolaus had just dashed out of the forest onto the path. Having skirted Thebes, he'd been taking the shorter route through the woods to Alcmene's place, when the storm had hit.

"_**IOLAUS!"**_ Silas cried out to get his attention, afraid his friend wouldn't see him through the heavy rain.

Hearing the desperate cry, the warrior turned and then raced to Silas, dropping to kneel beside him. "What are you doing out in this storm?" he demanded, shaking his head at the mud-covered and shivering munchkin.

"There're women and kids trapped on the island," Silas gasped, turning to point back the way he'd come. "The river's rising – I was trying to get help…"

Suddenly sober, Iolaus stood. "I'll go for them – you get back to Alcmene's…"

"No, there're too many…" Silas protested. "We need a rope…"

Cutting a look at the rapidly swelling river and then at the sky, squinting against the rain, Iolaus shook his head. "There's no time…I'll bring as many across as I can…"

"I'm going with you," Silas insisted.

"Silas…"

"No, listen! There're maybe fifteen or more women and kids trapped over there – I saw them before the river flooded the causeway," the youth explained in a rush. "If you try to do this alone, they'll panic and swamp you, everyone wanting their own child saved first. If I go with you, and you leave me there with them, it'll prove there's time enough to get everyone off and I can keep them calm while you swim back and forth. You know the kids will listen to me, and that will calm the mothers…"

His jaw tight, Iolaus considered the situation as he picked Silas up and ran with him toward the river. Reluctantly, he had to agree that the kid was probably right. If they did this quickly, then they might save all of the others, but there would be no time for arguments, no time to fight off some while trying to save others.

"Okay," he agreed tersely as he waded into the icy water. "But when I tell you to come with me, you come, no matter who else is still on that damned island. I'm not going to just watch my own son drown."

"Your…son?" Silas gasped, clinging to Iolaus' neck as the warrior slogged further along the flooded causeway, the water fast rising to his knees and then his hips.

"Yeah," Iolaus paused briefly, to hug the child tightly and then look into his eyes. "I hope you don't mind, but I adopted you early this morning…"

"Adopted?" Silas echoed. "You're…you're my Dad now?"

"Uh huh, if it's okay with you, that is…"

"You love me that much?" Silas whispered in awe, gaping a little as he gazed up at Iolaus with wide, hope-filled eyes.

"You bet your boots I love you that much," Iolaus replied with a quick grin, but then he staggered as the river surged against him. The current was far too fast and too strong for any of the women, let alone the children, to try to brave it on their own. When the river swept up to his chest, he had no choice but to swim the rest of the way. After giving the kid another tight hug, he slid Silas around to cling onto his back as he called, "Hold on! Don't let go!"

"I won't let go…_Dad_," Silas called back, joy resonating in his voice despite the dire circumstances. The water swelled up around them, and he gasped at the cold, swift moving stream, having to hang on tight. _"My Dad,"_ he murmured again softly, as he clung to Iolaus' neck and strained to keep his face out of the surging water.

But Iolaus heard him, the happy awe in Silas' voice warming his heart even as the icy river chilled his body.

In minutes, they were scrambling up out of the water on the other side and the river's captives were crowding around them, yelling and screaming, begging and pleading to be saved. The river was rising fast, relentlessly spilling over the banks and flooding the ground around them.

"_**Kids first!"**_ Silas shouted as loudly as he could. "_Littlest kids first of all!"_ he told them, when the shouting died back a bit, as he thrust two little girls who couldn't have been more than seven toward Iolaus. "Don't worry," he told them, pitching his voice so all could hear, as his new father lifted the girls to clutch onto his vest and shoulders. "My new Dad wouldn't have brought me out here if he couldn't save everyone! You know you can trust Iolaus."

Despite the urgency, the warrior couldn't help but smile at the absolute confidence in Silas' voice, or at the pride with which his son named him 'Dad'. "I'll be right back," he called out over the sound of thunder and rain, as he plunged once again into the icy waters.

While he swam across the strong current, Silas got everyone organized on the fast-shrinking island, so they'd know whose turn was next and there'd be no time lost when Iolaus got back.

The children were light, and Iolaus was able to make fairly good time across the span of river to the mainland. He set them down high on the banks, well away from the swiftly moving, swelling current. "Hug each other to keep warm!" he told them firmly, and then turned to leap back into the wild river. As he swam closer to the island, he could hear snatches of Silas' high voice, telling all who would listen that he had a new father. "…adopted me!" the warrior heard. "…got the best Dad in the world!" and his heart swelled with pride. "…so lucky!"

Iolaus took the next two children Silas pushed toward him, and scarcely had time to lay a fond hand on his son's head before he once again turned to wade into the water and swim to the far shore. Back and forth, Iolaus swam, fighting the heavy, demanding current that tried to push him along to the sea, trying to ignore the cold that ate into his bones and stole his energy until he was shivering uncontrollably and his skin was pinched and blue. By the fourth trip, this time with two of the women, one clinging to his back while he gripped the other with one arm, he was so cold he could scarcely feel his body and his limbs felt heavy, like blocks of ice. Gritting his teeth, he struggled on to the shore and when they'd finally made it, he lay gasping for breath for a long minute, shuddering with cold and exhaustion.

But the rain was still pouring down, and the river still rising…

Panting, he pushed himself to his knees and then staggered upright to turn back toward the island, his heart clenching as he saw how little of it remained above water – the survivors were huddled together on the highest bit of land that was left. Silas waved to him and he nodded…and then he plunged back into the swirling, surging water. There were seven more people yet to be saved – six women and his son.

Hercules had just loped through Thebes, heading directly to his mother's place, when the storm broke. He'd not been in a great hurry, figuring Iolaus would want some time alone with Silas to break the news, but now that the weather had turned so nasty, all he wanted was to get home as quickly as possible, to dry himself and warm by the fire. Idly, he wondered if Iolaus had made it home before the rains began pelting the countryside, but wryly figured his partner hadn't had that much of a head start. It hadn't taken him and Jason long to decide on a plan to trap and capture the border raiders in the next few days.

He was grimacing at the ugly weather, having trouble maintaining his pace on the slippery mud, when an adolescent girl blundered out of the forest and onto the road to the village. Sobbing, covered with mud and soaked by the rain, she had her head down and didn't even see him until he caught hold of her.

"Hey, easy little one," he called as he steadied her.

"Hercules!" she gasped. "Oh, you have to help! People are trapped on the river – you know, where we pick berries! They'll all drown!"

"What?" he stammered, looking past her toward the forest and the river beyond. "How many people?"

"I don't know," she wailed. "Maybe…maybe fifteen or sixteen. Silas saved me, and went to get a rope – he sent me to get men from the town to help…"

"Okay – you keep going to Thebes. It's not far now," the demigod told her. "I'll go straight to the river."

And then he was running full out, wondering what Silas thought he could do on his own and not really wanting to think about it. The kid was too brave by half, and Hercules had a sickening image of the youth trying to save those people on his own…

Once again making the crossing with one woman clinging to his back and the other held in a tight grip, Iolaus wasn't sure how much longer he could keep going, but he didn't have a choice – there were still four more women and Silas on the shrinking bit of land behind him. But he was frozen from the icy water, and the current kept dragging at him so that he was swimming now on an angle toward shore. The distances kept getting greater, as the island shrank and the banks receded…and the women were so terrified that they were of no help. The one clinging to his neck was almost strangling him, and the one in his arm was struggling against the water, making it so very hard to hold onto her. He'd've told them to settle down if he'd had the breath to speak – but it was taking all he had just to keep swimming.

He didn't see the log bearing down upon them, or hear Silas' terrified shout of warning…

The sodden length of solid wood hit hard and drove them downriver. The sharp, heavy impact left Iolaus breathless and stunned, so that he sank below the water, floundering – but managed to fight his way back up to air, and miraculously, he'd also kept a grip on the two women. But they were screaming now, utterly panicked, fighting him and the river…as hard as he tried, he could feel one slipping away, even as the other, in her frenzy, seemed to be trying to climb up to sit on his head and was pushing him under again…

Hercules lunged out of the forest and raced across the path toward the cluster of soaked and bedraggled women and children huddled on the riverbank. He could hear Silas' frightened shouts, and the screams of the women. "Cassie," he ordered one of the women he recognized, "run to my Mother's cottage for blankets. More help is on the way from Thebes…" And then he spotted Iolaus about halfway across, and realized his partner was fighting a losing battle with the terrified women and the river. His heart in his mouth, Hercules dove into the river and swam with fast, mighty strokes out toward his best friend.

"_**Iolaus!"**_ Hercules called out sharply as he plucked the woman from his partner's back and reached for a handful of blond curls to yank Iolaus' face out of the water.

Spluttering and coughing, the warrior dragged in the precious air. When he looked up and saw Hercules treading water near him, he gave a wan smile. "What took you so long?" he gasped.

Hercules just shook his head and reached for the second woman, but Iolaus called, "I've got her."

Together, they hauled the frightened women to the shore and, once there, Hercules had to turn to swiftly grab Iolaus and pull him up on the bank – the blond warrior had given the last of his strength to pushing the woman with him to safety, and had nothing left to fight the grip of the river's current.

Though barely conscious, Iolaus struggled to rise. "Still others…" he gasped. "Silas…"

"I'll get them," Hercules promised as he pushed Iolaus back to the ground. "You're frozen solid and exhausted. You'll drown if you try to cross again…"

Panting hard, unwilling to waste precious time with argument, trusting his best friend, Iolaus nodded and sagged back. "Go…" he whispered. "Hurry."

The demigod turned and plunged back into the icy water…

Silas swept the rain from his eyes so that he could better see what was happening on the far shore. He'd known Iolaus was in trouble, but had thought everything would be all right as soon as Hercules pulled the woman from his father's back. But now the warrior had collapsed and Silas was scared. Still, he forced himself to remain as calm as possible while he kept the women still with him from giving way to panic. The icy water was swirling around their ankles, all the land of the small island now submerged.

"It'll be okay," he counseled. "Hercules is here now, and he'll get the rest of us to safety in no time!" Studying the women, he chose the two who were most nervous to go next because he wasn't sure they could hold onto their fears much longer.

As soon as Hercules slogged out of the river, water running down in rivulets from his hair and clothing, Silas had to ask, "Iolaus…is he all right?"

"He's just tired, Silas, don't worry," Hercules assured him. "Come on. Let's get you to safety."

"No – take the women first," Silas replied hastily. Pointing at the two he'd chosen to go next, he whispered, "They're really scared and I'm afraid they'll panic and jump into the river – they'll drown if they try to swim across alone."

Flashing a look at the women, and then at the river, Hercules nodded. There was time to make one trip, and get back before the water rose much higher. "I won't be long," he told the three souls remaining on the submerged island, as he lifted one woman to his back and wrapped his strong arm around the other's shoulders. Before they quite knew what was happening, he had them in the river and was swimming strongly to the other side.

On his return to the island, the demigod had to be wary of the increasing number of logs that seemed to fill the surging waters but he didn't have time to wonder where they'd all come from. Once again, he dragged himself out of the river, ready to take the last three across.

"C'mon, Silas," he called urgently, but the lad pushed the women ahead of him.

"You can't take us all at once," he reasoned. "You need one arm free to swim, and if I try to ride on your back, too, Nadia wouldn't have room and might slip away…I'll be okay until you come back once more."

"Silas, I…"

"Women and children first – isn't that the rule? And I'm not a kid anymore! You have to hurry, Hercules!" the lad hastened, with a worried look at the raging river and the increasing number of half-submerged logs. "Be careful, though!"

The women were pleading to join their children on the far shore, weeping with their fear and the cold of the water that was swirling around their bare legs. Reluctantly, the demigod nodded and took them, leaving Silas standing alone. The youth watched the river, and stood ready to jump to one side or another if a log came too close…

Iolaus had caught his breath and he shoved himself up onto one elbow, anxious to see that Silas was being brought to safety. But his heart hammered with fear as he watched the distant discussion, and though he couldn't hear the words, he could divine the meaning. His arms and legs still felt frozen, and he was so cold that he shuddered with it, but he forced himself up to his feet and staggered toward the water's edge as Hercules started back with the last two women.

Squinting through the rain, he tried to gauge how fast the river was rising, how much time they had left – and he thought there was time enough for Hercules to go back for Silas. Iolaus would have gone immediately if he wasn't afraid he'd only end up getting them both drowned, but he didn't have the strength to fight that river again, not yet – and there was no way he would risk Silas' life, however much he might have been ready to gamble his own.

Hercules had almost reached the shore when there was a sudden surge of water that roared from around the bend…a log damn upstream had given way completely, and the wall of pent up water now rushed mercilessly downriver.

"_**NO!"**_ Iolaus screamed as he saw the danger and instinctively leapt into the icy flow to try to reach Silas.

The water hit hard, like a wall of stone, and Hercules was barely able to hold onto the women he was bearing to the shore. With a heave of superhuman strength, he lunged for land and grabbed hold, shoving one woman up into waiting hands and then pulling the other from his back and pushing her to safety. Dimly, he was aware that more help had finally arrived, that there were men there, putting blankets around the victims – and distantly, he heard his mother call out his name.

But there was no time to respond. Off-balance from the surge of powerful water around him, he turned, his eyes raking the place where the island had been, but there was only rushing water.

"_**Silas!"**_ he yelled, his frantic gaze searching the swirling, foaming river. _**"Iolaus!"**_

Finally, he spotted his partner, half-swimming, half-submerged and being pulled along by the river some distance downstream – and then he saw the flash of red tumbling in the relentless current, just out of Iolaus' reach. The demigod dove back into the icy maelstrom, cutting through the river with long, hard strokes as he struggled to catch up and save both his best friend and his son, Silas.

He caught a glimpse of Iolaus grabbing onto the kid, but they both floundered in the heavy current, jostled by debris, frozen by the icy waters. Kicking hard, grimly determined, Hercules poured all he had into catching them…

Iolaus caught onto a good-sized branch to help them stay afloat, Silas held tight to his shoulder with his right arm. But he didn't have the strength left to swim across the current, so both were tossed helplessly in its grip. Casting a desperate look back, Iolaus saw Hercules coming after them and he blew out a breath of relief. He just had to hold on for a few minutes more.

"It's okay, son," he called to Silas above the roar of the water around them. "Herc's coming. We'll be safe soon."

But Silas didn't answer, not that Iolaus had expected he would. The lad lay limply against him, his little face tucked in against Iolaus' neck, and he had already been unconscious when Iolaus had grabbed hold of the back of his coat and hauled his face out of the water. But he was breathing – the warrior could hear the shallow, raspy gasps, the rattle in his son's chest, feel the wispy breaths on his skin. He would be okay. _Had_ to be okay. Silas had just swallowed some water, that's all. He'd be fine as soon as he was warm and safe…

Hercules finally caught up with them and grabbed hold of Iolaus, holding his friend tightly while the warrior held his son, and the demigod turned back to plough through the river toward the shore. He swam as fast he could, kicking hard – Iolaus was literally blue with the cold and had stopped shivering, never a good sign, and little Silas didn't sound good at all.

Using the ropes they'd brought, the men tied themselves securely and then leapt into the water to reach out toward the struggling demigod and pull them all in to the shore. Finally, with much shouting and gasping, Hercules and his precious burdens were hauled to safety. Iolaus was still clinging tightly to Silas as he slumped onto his knees in the mud.

"Take care of my boy!" he gasped as the world darkened around him and he crumpled, unconscious, onto the rain-soaked earth.

Hercules swept Silas into his arms and called to others to bring Iolaus, shouting for someone to run for the healer and bring him to Alcmene's cottage…

Iolaus woke to a darkened room, illuminated only by the flicker of an oil lamp on the table nearby. He could hear the rain still pounding on the roof and he was confused for a moment as he blinked and tried to recall what had happened.

"Hey," Hercules called softly and gripped his shoulder. "How're you doing?"

The warrior frowned at the question, and more at the glimmer of moisture in his best friend's eyes. Herc was close to tears…and then the memories flooded in. "Silas?" he demanded, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

"Easy, I'll help you," the demigod said quietly. "Silas is right over in the next bed…"

With Hercules' help, Iolaus sat up and swung his legs over the side of his best friend's bed. He looked across the room and saw Alcmene sitting beside the small, blanket covered bundle. She looked up at him, and he could see the tracks of tears on her cheeks. "Ah, no…" he groaned as Hercules supported him to his feet and across the narrow space.

Alcmene stood, ceding her place to Iolaus. "I'm so sorry, my son," she murmured as she gripped Iolaus' arm. "His body just doesn't have the strength…the healer said it was a miracle he came out of the river alive, but…he's failing fast…"

"No…" Iolaus whispered again in helpless protest, as he sank down on the edge of the bed and took Silas' small hand in his own. Reaching out, he stroked the still damp hair back from the boy's broad brow, and could feel the chill of the skin under his fingers. "Silas?" he grated, his throat thick with bitter grief.

Silas' blinked at the sound of his voice and then opened bleary eyes. Slowly, he focused on the room around him and then shifted his head a little so that he could see Iolaus clearly. _"Dad?"_ he whispered.

"I'm here, son," Iolaus murmured back, his voice cracking as he fought the tears that burned in his eyes. "Shh, just rest…"

"_Wanted…wanted to tell you…"_ the lad sighed, struggling to get the words out. "_So…proud of you."_

"Ah, Silas," the warrior choked, as he pulled the boy up to hold him close to his chest. "I'm the one who's proud – no man could have a better, braver son than you…"

"_Told you…born to be a hero…"_ Silas murmured. _"Never expected to live very long…never expected to be so happy...s'okay…don' feel bad…"_

"You've _always_ been a hero," Iolaus replied unsteadily, and then a sob broke from his chest, and a tear etched down his cheek, as he kissed his son's cool brow. "I love you, Silas," he said, his voice breaking. "I've loved you so long and so very much…"

"_I know…"_ Silas sighed, a sweet smile playing around his lips as he curled in his father's embrace. _"I've always loved you, too – I always will, Dad…"_

Hercules stood in the shadows, his arm around his mother's shoulders, and he flinched when he saw Celesta shimmer by the bed. Gods, how could this be happening?

"_So tired,"_ Silas sighed as he relaxed in his father's warm embrace.

"I know, son," the warrior murmured with infinite sorrow as he rested his cheek on the top of the boy's head. His heart breaking, he whispered huskily, "You can sleep now…it's okay…"

But Silas blinked and shifted to look up at his much beloved adopted father one last time. _"You always made me feel…special. You believed in me,"_ he rasped, his strength fading and his voice a mere wisp of air. _"You know, Dad – you didn't just save me today. You saved me a long, long time ago…"_

And then, he smiled so sweetly, and his eyes glowed with happiness as he whispered one last time, _"My Dad..."_ He sighed as his eyes drifted close and he slumped into utter stillness in Iolaus' embrace.

"You saved me, too, son – you saved me, too," Iolaus wept as he held the lifeless little body close.

They left Iolaus alone to mourn the son of his heart. For the rest of the night, Alcmene and Hercules sat by the fire in the kitchen, also mourning the passing of the very special little boy, for they had loved him, too. When the rained finally stopped just before dawn, Hercules went out to gather wood and to build the pyre.

Alcmene went back to Iolaus and pulled out, from the trunk at the end of the bed, the warm, woolen nightshirt she'd just finished making for Silas. Holding the garment, she asked softly, "Do you want me to prepare him…"

"No, thanks, 'Mene," Iolaus replied quietly as he laid Silas' body back on the bed. "I'll do it."

Nodding, she placed the garment on the foot of the bed, and then moved to Iolaus' side. When he turned to her, she hugged him tightly. "I'm so very sorry, Iolaus," she whispered brokenly. "He was such a sweet, brave child…"

He held onto her for a long moment, grateful for her love and compassion, but then he pushed her gently away. "He wouldn't want us to be so…upset," Iolaus stammered. "It would hurt him to see us weep…"

But she shook her head as she gripped his arms. "You have a right and a need to grieve, Iolaus. But always remember, he knew very well how much you loved him – and he truly was happy, at the end, to know he was your son."

The warrior nodded wearily and turned away to tend to Silas' body. As she left the room, she heard him say softly, "I was truly happy, too…"

One of the villagers came by just after dawn, to see how Iolaus and Silas were doing – and, very dismayed to hear the boy had died, he immediately left again to share the sad news. By the time Hercules had finished building the pyre, it seemed the whole village had emptied to come and show their respect and to share the sorrow. He was kneeling to feed the fire he'd started near the pyre, turned away from the gathering crowd to hide the tears on his cheeks, when Celesta appeared beside him and bent to whisper in his ear. Startled, he looked up at her, knowing no one else could see her, and smiled sadly as he nodded his thanks for her message…and then she faded from view.

Hercules stood and turned to face the villagers, and was honestly shocked – and angered – when he saw who had come with the rest. Cephus, half drunk as usual, arrived loudly proclaiming his rights as Silas' bereaved father. Cephus had heard of Silas' heroism, and had come to claim the privilege of carrying the boy's body to the pyre – hoping, no doubt, that the other villagers would honour him, as the kid's father.

Hercules could not believe the man's gall and in no way wanted Iolaus subject to his ravings.

Unceremoniously, the demigod grabbed Cephus by the arm and pulled him away. "You were _never_ a decent father to that child!" he seethed. "You neglected and abused him all of his too short life. Iolaus adopted Silas legally in Corinth, by proclamation of the King – Silas was _Iolaus'_ son when he died – _his_ son in all but name for _years!_"

When they reached the edge of the crowd, Hercules shoved Cephus hard down the lane. "You're not welcome here – go before I do something you'll regret."

Cephus might have argued further, but there was a rumble in the crowd around Hercules and he could see the hate and disgust in the eyes of everyone who glared at him. Not only was he not welcome at the funeral – it was clear that he was no longer welcome in Thebes. Offended, he sniffed and turned away to walk stiffly, if unsteadily, down the road. He didn't need them – didn't need anyone.

Hercules turned to see Iolaus coming out of the cottage, Silas' body cradled in his arms, Alcmene behind him. Moving back toward the pyre, the demigod watched silently as his best friend laid the remains of the small lad on the top of the stacked wood. Iolaus reached out to stroke Silas' head one last time, and then sighed as he stepped back. Taking a breath, he swallowed hard and straightened his shoulders as he turned to face the gathered assembly of villagers and give his heartfelt eulogy.

"Silas once told me that the healer in Corinth said he was a miracle – that he should never have been born or lived so long." Iolaus' voice broke and he had to pause to again try to swallow the lump in his throat and blink back tears. Licking his lips, he continued, "Silas _was_ a miracle – of courage and strength. But his body couldn't match the huge compassion of his heart or the bravery of his spirit. He always said that he'd been born for a reason, and he believed he was destined to be a hero. Yesterday, he insisted on being with the women and children trapped by the flooding river, to calm them and keep them from panicking – to be sure everyone got to the other side safely. He wouldn't leave the danger until he knew everyone else was safe – but by then, it was too late to save him. Before he…died…last night, Silas was glad to know he'd fulfilled his destiny. But…"

Once again, Iolaus had to stop and take a breath to steady his voice. "But, in my eyes, Silas was a hero every single day of his life. He faced barriers and scorn most of us never have to imagine – and he faced them with dauntless determination, unfailing dignity, and endless good humour. He worked hard and he was so very smart – he loved going to school, loved to learn. Silas had a hard life, but he never once complained – he just kept going, and kept finding joy in the world around him. I feel lucky to have had the chance to know him so well – and I am honoured to have been allowed to be his father, if only for too short a time. I love Silas, as I love my other sons…and no man could ever have a finer son, or be more proud of his son, that I am of him."

Sniffing, Iolaus swiped at his eyes and turned toward the fire, but Hercules reached out to pull out a burning brand and handed it to him. Turning to the pyre, his eyes on Silas' body, Iolaus said sorrowfully, "This day is a sad day. As we bid you good-bye, Silas, we try to take comfort from knowing that you are safe in the Elysian Fields, with all our other heroes. I'll miss you, son, more than you will ever know." Setting the burning brand to the kindling at the base of the pyre, Iolaus called out, "Let no one here ever forget Silas, son of Iolaus, of Thebes…"

The kindling caught, and the fire whooshed up, quickly enveloping the little body…

One by one, the villagers and their children offered muted condolences as they passed by the pyre. Lorelei waited until everyone else had spoken to Iolaus, and then she stepped forward. "You don't know me, but my name is Lorelei, and I went to school with Silas."

"I know who you are," Iolaus replied gently, his voice soft as he recalled Silas' blush when he spoke of this pretty girl. "Silas liked you…very much."

"I liked him, too – more than anybody else at school. He was my best friend…" she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. "I wanted you to know that Silas saved my life yesterday – he pulled me from the river when it rushed over the causeway. I couldn't believe how strong he was…" She paused for a moment, and then said with a trembling voice, "He'll always be my hero…"

"Thank you," Iolaus murmured as he tenderly stroked her head. "He'd be so proud to know that. You were very special to him."

She nodded sadly and then turned back to her parents, to return to Thebes with them.

And then, it was just the three of them left, watching the flames burn until the wood was no more than hot, glowing ash. Hercules stood with one hand firmly gripping Iolaus' shoulder, and his other arm around his weeping mother. "I'm sorry," he murmured, feeling guilt curl in his chest. "If I'd brought him back first, or insisted he come with the last women…"

But Iolaus shook his head as he raised a hand to push away the apology. Lifting his eyes to his best friend's troubled gaze, he replied, "Then someone else might have died instead – and Silas would never have forgiven you or himself, that he'd lived when another died in his place. Be honest, Herc – I saw you trying to get him to climb on your back – he wouldn't go, would he?"

"No," Hercules admitted as his gaze returned to the pyre. "He insisted that 'women and children' had to be rescued first, and he reminded me that he wasn't a kid anymore."

Iolaus smiled sadly as he nodded. "That's my Silas. You know, I don't think he ever was a kid, not in the sense of being dependent or completely innocent. He was too wise, somehow – too old in his spirit."

"And yet – he loved life, Iolaus," Alcmene murmured. "He reminded me so much of you – so determined and yet so joyful, so ready to laugh…"

Hercules smiled then, a soft curl of his lips, as he told them, "Apparently, he still is – joyful and ready to laugh, I mean."

"Huh?" Iolaus gaped, confused.

"Celesta came by a while ago," the demigod explained. "She told me what happened when they arrived on the Other Side." Looking down at Iolaus, he continued, "Hades apparently offered Silas a new, taller and 'normal' form to enjoy in the Elysian Fields, I guess because he figured Silas had had a hard enough time in his life. But, uh, Silas told him, very politely I understand, that he rather liked his body and was used to it, thank you very much. He said being small didn't mean he was weak, and that he'd learned from you that a man didn't have to be tall to be brave – _and_ that, frankly, he didn't know how big, tall, men like me or Hades managed to keep their balance or didn't get nose bleeds from the thin air so high from the ground."

Iolaus chuckled a little as he pictured the conversation between the tall, austere, Hades and the irrepressible Silas.

"Wait, it gets better," Hercules said then, his eyes twinkling as he imagined what Celesta had described. "Silas no sooner finished refusing a new form when he scrunched up his face and asked Hades if he knew he had a really ugly, black, creepy-crawly thing on his collar!"

"What? He didn't!" Iolaus gasped, as Alcmene fought to hold back a snicker of appreciative laughter.

"Oh, yeah," Hercules affirmed as he slung an arm around Iolaus' shoulders. "Your son most certainly _did _dare to not only lecture, but tease, the oh-so-serious God of the Underworld. I gathered Hades wasn't amused – but Silas had already taken off, giggling, and last seen, Hades had lit out after him. I'd bet, by now, Silas has tamed Cerberus and given Charon a hot foot…"

Laughing despite his sorrow, Iolaus shook his head. "That's my boy," he chuckled, grateful to Celesta for having shared the story, and to Hercules for having eased his heart by telling him. On the Other Side, Silas would know no pain and his energy would never fail him. Nothing had ever kept Silas down for long… and it seemed now, nothing ever would.

_We loved Silas, and we always will. He taught us a great deal in his short life, about dignity and courage, and about having faith that life was for a purpose, not to be wasted but enjoyed until that purpose is fulfilled. We miss him, of course we do, Iolaus most of all – but we take comfort in remembering him, his joy and laughter, his eager anticipation of new adventures…and in imagining what mischief he's gotten himself into in the Elysian Fields._

_So…that's our Silas' story. A story of a boy who was born brave and – against all the odds – fulfilled his destiny. _

_Silas was a true hero, just like his Dad…_

Finis


End file.
